Treading on burning cinders
it was a saga of fear versus unknown.
Stripped, before drooping eyes
scarred, armless, unflying.
Into the regeneration phase:
not a single word, single concern
of yourself, you walked to arrive
without adding a question.
There was a movement without ripples,
death of the black, mottled, many.
I, becoming transcendental scion
of whole, sincere entity.
Melting to start a romance
in the house of petals,
of fragrant pheromones
deluging the phoenix.
To want the crowd, select a colossus
cadaver spreading on mushrooms in field
erect a man in white bones, unrivalled
jealousy of virgins and gods.
A pen of golden verse Melting to start a romance in the house of petals, of fragrant pheromones deluging the phoenix.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Whalebone of her corset formed an hourglass. All I saw was the sickle. The fields of golden ripe grain swaying with movements of the flute. I drank gin and tonics in the sun and swatted at memories of the moon.