Where
Have the remains of last
night
been hidden
else
reduced to ashes
in the Barbecue of Fear
in yonder cemetery?
Amidst the tombs and graves
and
the sad monuments
you sit
and find relief as the day
fades
and sunset fails, then
the red dusk starts pining
waning too
with that certain
surfeiting
then
comes the cloth of dark
and will
find me sitting
by a large cross
monument on a humid tomb:
the heavens are the roof
the Earth the room
the grave the Inner Soul
all whispering
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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