Quis es, Nox?

A poem I just spent the whole day working on. It's written in three languages, I'll do a translation if people want me to

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2. Translation

 

Who are you, Night?

The truth of truths of truth

is a liar, but 

beauty mixes

tings good and bad.

 

a voice.                                                                                      I are not in a box.

They are ready.

I am thirsty. Very thirsty.

I read, read, but I can't see

I am dying, fading, alas!

 

They're falling, these rocks

Towards here. You hate me

Sliding without a sled

Towards my friend,

poor old Wallace.

 

I see large stones,

you whirling wheel.

It comes, it comes!

Can't see anything.

Darkens.

 

In the last tram,

life impossible.

There are worms

in my home.

Disappears.

To kill beauty.

Invisible 

are the storms.

They killed my lover.

Reappears.

 

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