Eu sonhei sua nota do suicide fui rabiscado no lápis em um paperbag marrom, & no saco estavam seis ratos do bebê. O saco abriu na escuridão, smoldering do alto para baixo. Os ratos, huddled no fundo, scurried o saco através de um campo shorn. Eu estive-o sobre & enquanto a queimadura alcançou cada letra do carbono de o que você escrito sua voz liberada na noite como uma canção, & os ratos cresceram mais selvagens.
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.
Attention: On Sun. Nov. 16th through Thurs. Nov. 20th, don't miss the pilot episodes of Unexplained with my good friend, George Noory, airing on the Sci Fi Channel at 11p (ET/PT). Topics include reincarnation, witchcraft, cryptozoology, UFOs, and strange tales.
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Matt Damon
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George Noory
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