I am yet to call
another dead poem out
from the pyramid.
I tried it some days ago
I tried to act Christ
but this poem
never wanted to come back.
A proud dead poem
from the catacomb
of some dried skeletons.
He wants me to build
him a shrine
with a lion headed statue
of bushy beards
and a golden crown.
Another dead poem
that refused to become
my Lazarus.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem