My body is subject to biological fenomenons
despite constraints, organisms that multiply, the will to go
branches of a tree, shadows reaching i dont know where
the shadow of ellisium
the roses of the thorny bush
the hard way the easy way
history of passionate loves lost in the misty city
the simple hues of desire, leading
but this mightbe the tree on the island of this vast see and forced to look at casiopea constelation
forced that would be the operative word, a new philosophy would be in order
like im a moving cloud
like you give shadow to my stream
some thing that can only be seen, the difference, in the vissual dimension
therefore check mate, except if i unleash the white horses
the shadows of the sun
the shadows of the birds
bad and good, release from my feters my only joy
joy made out of blue
eternal questions
answers if you please, not just tease
the shadow of a light house
the shadow of the mirrored skyscrapers
my passin is working your machine, you fly of like fireworks
so there is a force in question
easily able to camu flage itself
hard ecuated with soft is nothing the space between the end and the begining
bad equated with good answer peace
in and out
hostile equated with friendly ness, a fire bomb impaling itself because of passion to the era
or a passion that burns in the conscience of the lover
lovers tears condensed
into nectar, rythm
melody
let be dispel all the evil and hear you
make love not war
protect yourself
protect the apples with no shadows
what is at the end of those branches
ambrosia
conciousness and a rejection of evil
good over evil equals peace
empty of anvils
a flagrant garden, of love powered fireworks
some are guides to
the tree has branches thorns, and fruit
conscient of god
all the basic things make a good foundation to the starrs
to the girl
the mist
this is the music of her voice
she sang the harvest of the wheat field,
i sing, the natural process of notes
these chords connstrain her heart into a whine
whilst of picking a flower in the middle of s shadow
i grabbed her leg which involves opening the third eye to the random cunjurering of miracles of love,
and the lips, not only does it it involve a melody, but the lips writing not the book, which reveal the secrets
but this mad parade
why climbing up the mountain sailing the river wich goes through the jungle, through the valleys, what faith, intransigence compounds emotional trajectories, reminicent fragments of parallel existences,
i require guidance from the harp of the goddess
her charm renders me a helpless slave
the thorny bush, required my full attention, for i need
its fruits, your thorns wound me but your rose, kept me posesed with want
i abandoned myself to the heat.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem