she always used to set the walls 'round her on fire
and cover them with barbwire
while he's killing ladybugs on the ceiling of his world
they are summer snowmen
with rust in their hair, with yesterday plans
they are opposite shores of vast grey of today
he lives on the insect graveyard and smoke
so many cigarettes that he can barely breathe
and she's scared of her haunted metronome
and sounds of submarines in the harbour
the ways of nuclear lovers
cross in useless memory storehouse
exist for nothing because of the fickleness
twice as peerless, half as blissful
out there along the railway tracks
under the checquered sky and wet woodpoles
they always hurl into the dark tunnels
unaware of the unknown void
into desolation, the mind and it's creation
unable to understand
surrender to destruction
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem