In blurry despair, the wind
cruelly struggled.
Darkening drops of blood
embellished themselves on slate’s lips.
And, in the night, the widow moon
came out to close off.
In una vaga disperazione il vento
si dibatteva disumanamente.
Gocce di sangue annerendosi
si gemmavano sulle labbra d’ardesia.
E uscì a isolarsi nella notte,
vedova la luna.
Do you know a different English translation? Please contact me, this is a personal translation
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