figure
that in to the dark corner
hobbled off
the night
the steps adown the street
the dark corner of the night
o verse
o song
how many pains and
stigmata
you gave me for
you
how many
and I felt
the lash of the figure
on me
for cold and chill
I put out my hand
for a morsel of bread
and instead
I received the lash
of the pain
the lash that
shattered my face and my mouth
and my teeth
for you, for you the Muse
and instead of the morsel of bread
the lashes of pain I received
and drank to the rim
the potion of sacrifice
to the rim
to the rim
to the rim
and
for you, my verse
and
for you
my song.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem