Por que esta idade umas idades mais mal do que mais adiantadas? Em um stupor do grief e do dread ter-nos nao fingered as feridas as mais sujas e esquerda unhealed por nossas mos?
No oeste a luz de queda incandesce ainda, e os housetops aglomerados resplandecem no sol, mas aqui a morte est riscando j as portas com cruzes, e est chamando os ravens, e os ravens esto voando dentro.
Volunteers needed to translate poetry into different languages. Please help us correct the translation of these poems. We currently have 79,663 translations and are trying to create the largest and most accurate database of world poetry translations. We have started with machine translations which are very inaccurate. Please translate your favorite poem on this site. You will be given credit for your translation and a link to your site if desired. COPYRIGHT NOTICE: These poems have been gathered and submitted by many of people, and from many sources. Most have no copyright. However, some may may have copyrights. We have tried to collect poems that appear on many external sites where the author seems to want to disseminate. If you are an author and do not want your poetry translated into other languages then send a removal request and it will be promptly removed.
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