Entering
The Matador
The time
As waking matador
Dancing
I AM THE bull
Amateur
And I will fight
And the trophy
Is my head
No doubt! !
I'm bleeding
But I will carry on
Alone
Lonely in arena wounds with aches
My blood
Red and emotion
Emotion is old infusion
As Gypsies were
Around the fire
Erased tunes
And piece of road in flash
of red
As they left the path
Within the river
Echoes
flow
Ashes of the time
Still their gazes
eyes
On the horizon
Stare
Alone I carry Promise to fight
I am bleeding and I will fight
devoted for the love and I care
Spontaneous this misty feeling from heart
I rush
To red then
Aches then wounds and I carry on
to the end of my time
That's in my blood
Closing that stage
In the final entourage
sick and tire
And the crowd
Shouting kill
I am the one who will be carried
Out of the game
But I will fight
Till the end
the time is waking matador
And the bull,
Me amateur
But I will make him feel proud!
while it pass to my end
In one scale
The two palms as we are!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem