What would you like to know about me?
Should I say
I keep my eyes and windows open
Even on cold winter nights?
Because Nights intoxicate me like women
Holding a curved knife, which is
The Moon made of ice
Ready to melt into my glass
From which I drink
And forget
That I have been drinking thorns and stars alike
For ages...
Yet I never cried...
Nobody heard me, crying...
Yes...these lonely nights have made me
Laugh in the day time, let me stand without support
And in return I have promised her my blood...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem