I dwell in solitude's forge,
Bound by emptiness, the sun a mere cinder in time's palm.
Before me, a barren expanse unfolds —
A point of no return.

Inherited through bitter fate:
Walls bleached of color,
A home where shadows breathe,
And a homeland carpeted with the fallen.

An unnameable yearning gnaws at my core,
A thirst unquenched, an enigma unsolved.
Each morning heralds renewed anguish,
Each night, I lie awake, courting insomnia.

Life appears a dream oft-repeated,
Viewed through countless eyes before mine.
My heart, a fragile metronome,
Pulses only to the rhythm of spectral tales.

Exhausted by aimless wandering,
As ravens multiply in concrete jungles.
Fate's quill has inscribed my eulogy,
Dark-winged harbingers now keen my final verse.

I would have contested destiny's scribe,
Setting flame to his hallowed scroll.
Yet here I stand, reconciled at last,
A mirthless laugh sealing our truce.

დედანი გვაინტერესებს

  P.S
თუ დაგაინტერესებთ კიმონ ფრიარის ცხოვრება, უბრალოდ გუგლი გამოიყნეთ. მეზარება ბიოგრაფიული ცნობების თარგმნა.