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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2005-10-25 | [Ce texte devrait être lu en english] |
ENSHROUDED
The Night is green With sorrow and dull pity; The silence is singing throughout The catacombs of a Mere echo; The Moon is scattering its Tremors in Effulgent shrieks of Pain, Hanging loose, pouring its Venom and gore over A feeble shapeless dwarf… Neither Life nor Death are there To bring Peace to this Cataleptic picture. Dump and fierce Vaults of Incandescent lights Keep expanding into swarms of Pestilent Wasps that are Wandering like mad in search for The Seed of Vengeance. And Time, the almighty Conqueror of all Regrets, Is running short and dim, Stumbling and limping Beyond the bridge of all Ingratitude, Looking for Solace in the soft and strangely luring Attractiveness Of the midnight’s Shroud of Moths. Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania
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