Broken drum. Tired horn.
A song for the
tongues of strangers. A cigar
for the soldier’s gun. A drop of
whisky for the bottle.
Black hat. Black shirt.
Black eyes.
Bring me your black eyes.
Bring me the black scar in your
smile. Bring me the
black
you left behind.
This chair is a twist in
the winter wind. This floor
is a cigarette grave. This glass
is a circular hand.
Bring me your black eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem