La luz le envuelve en su llama mortal. Mourner plido abstrado, estando parada esa manera contra los viejos propulsores del twighlight que gira alrededor de usted.
Sin habla, mi amigo, solo en la soledad de esta hora de los muertos y llenada de las vidas del fuego, heredero puro del da arruinado.
Un bough de la fruta cae del sol en su ropa oscura. Las grandes races de la noche crecen repentinamente de su alma, y las cosas que ocultan en usted salen otra vez de modo que un azul y palled a gente su haber llevado nuevamente, toman el alimento.
Esclavo magntico magnfico y fecundo del Oh y del crculo que se mueve alternadamente a travs de negro y de oro: la subida, plomo y posee una creacin tan rica en la vida que sus flores fallecen y es llena de tristeza.
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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