The sounds made spiky, jagged
angles. They were like deep water
gushed up
through three mouths. The woman
slowly moved her head
from side to side. She lost
her right sight, nor could she
recognize the chasm
around. She tried to dance
her legs while wearing a weary dress. Her
blues partner was
indistinguishable. She appeared
to be in love with him,
but in fact, she needed to feel
changed by
this healing power. She felt
his left hand gently caressing
her breasts
while talking about
her wistfulness as about a solitary stone
in the sea. A Sephirah Angel having
a white wing
and a black one
approached to help her find
the balance between life and death.
This angel remained behind
the right edge of the window
on her bloodied wall. In the mirror
of time, her white and black face
skin cracked.
Her soul was
old, though still pure
while trying to
crawl out from
its hiding chaos.It was the end
of the summer, and
the arctic terns flew south
to spend their
next future
on a pack of ice.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem