Hard-to-read graffiti,
on the frozen walls of this world
Hard-to-deal-with gravity,
on every corner a beautiful girl
Fingers outstretched to the whiteout,
with eyes that burn what they see
Inside my cell the landscapes grow,
but horizons never show
Tracks in the snow,
why follow, why follow
Why follow
the cold
Political aspirations, media-fed mediocrity,
poetical interventions, becoming less and less
Blocked inside this sadness,
with eyes that hurt as they see
Stuck in endless circles
Less and less, more or less
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem