Flowers searching with seedless eyes
Reaching for their destiny’s up above clouds of pale mystery
Trying to read the suns burning lines
But getting scorched on fingers of hope
Adventures shrivelling down to the flinching crisp of an aged plant
Air drying itself up against memories compressed into petals
Peeling back inside, gripping life and cracking
Its black yolk over its own fragile walls
Delicate bodies bending over and
Pushing last words past their crushed lips to
Floors of the underworld
Crumbling its leftovers into the drowned atmosphere
But unable to reach a single drop of the
Transparent liquid flooding over the roof of death
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem