In the moulded tower
lived a girl
beautiful like the spring.
She was giving life
to the sick walls,
as they were touched by her gown,
the innocent, Flanders’ weave.
She was giving breath
to the sheets that covered her breasts
in the nights when she was sleeping the moon.
She was giving light
to the echoing corridors
with her feet naked warming the stones
as she was seeking the Devil.
Beautiful dreams!
drunken sensations,
red wine,
His blood on her lips.
Wise dreams!
dazing her mind
inside the dust of the immortal books,
with your knowledge dancing in her eyes.
Dangerous dreams!
Hell’s games
that transform into a sword
the desires of her flesh,
and into pain the sighs of her ecstasy.
She has been cursed by Poseidon
to be alone.
Alive among the soulless.
An angel among humans.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I absolutely love this one. It reminds me so well how some are so angelic they seem a god among the mortals.