You stop at the brink,
to flirt with the rim of
the lake.
Reading yourself in water
you wanted to defang
the life.
The blood berries expose
the guilt of the moon.
Would you sit at the bottom
of the bay and become
a doer? The white cobra waits
till you are paralyzed.
The lovers go crazy
baiting a god, to unleash
the trapped tempter.
A conflict between a
prey and the bottle. You
do not want to live in luxury.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The richness of life infuses the silvered words stilled for a moment on the page, on the screen. This is sublime, as it reaches from the depths to the very heights, like from my dirty feet to the hair on my head that I will soon need to comb. Thank you for this pretty picture. I will frame it in a locket woven from green branches and wear it over my heart.