There's a frightening symmetry
In the phases of the Moon stuck
In Luna's face-the remnants of a pale mask
Red and blue blood
Running down the neck
Who spilled the sky
Who spilled black and white cartridge
On the clouds that used to play with it
Ko je prosuo nebo
Postoji zastrašujuca simetrija
U fazama Mjeseca zaglavljenog
Na Luninom lice-ostacima blijede maske
Dok joj crvena i plava krv
Teku niz vrat
Ko je prosuo nebo
Ko je poprskao plavim i crvenim punjenjem
Oblake što su se nekad
Igrali sa njim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem