Metallic liquid-the polish-turn down your flames
Let me, the sinner; dine with your silver spoons-
“your selfless rustic bubbles”
I have stalked you-sitting there, aglow with pride-
so much like that flame, I’ll gladly smother it
Come, oh majestic one, let loose your fated massacres-
The sun flower massacres,
Run through those bloodied fields-bury that heart of yours
with chloroplast, go feed the sickened fly cadavers and watch,
watch the solo of my marching band-floats of wild peppers
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Figuratively, interesting image …