Death by Bumhe Han, 11

Death, thy cursed name shall be glorified

For how long I shout for thy name

In the shadow of my forgotten fantasy

Yet untouched by the glimpse of your coming

Darkened in your eerie smile; a smile that sharpens the blade cutting off my edges

Death, thy cursed name shall be glorified

The name with whom the soaring phantoms dance in joy

In the sweeping wave of thy hands

Of the faces telling me

Their never satiable craving for the gentle spell

Of thy name backward, softly, dreadfully drawn—indelible

Death, thy cursed name shall be glorified

The magical enchantment of thy name

In yet unborn cord of the first moment

Whoever recites it

Under the approaching murky clouds, blackened and unyielding

Shall stand close by thy calling, just to return again