I cross the eye of a needle
and wake up insensitive
to life without her
I'm in the middle of whispers and echoes
looking for the dark words
that explain to me this loving war
where I lost the bayleaf of her gaze
I walk with care
over the memory's fragile ice
to avoid sinking definitively
in this starless night
But my imagination
with its morbid kindness
compels to me to grope
the relentless truth without her
Now I'm the wolf pawing air,
it swallows the moon
and whitens its mouth
in the banquet of her absence
Among roses and trampled carnations
I invoke Casanova to lower his flames
as if they were flags gingered up in defeat
reminders of lost pleasure.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You cross the eye of a needle and wake up insensitive to life without her. This is very thought provoking and amazing poem brilliantly drafted.10