jupiter created everything that was positive
wounded will
now you know what to look for
before the depression comes
the sun seemed to be a way out of everything
almost empty
life was still a kind of petal
faded
on which the last tear had gone
when the violent darkness came
to aggress it
life was a kind of perfume
discolored
all that remained of her work
of love
in this morning begining
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem