Beat my brain
Carrying in shreds fragments of the confused thoughts
Having grown weak from lacerated wounds
I will shrink deeply in itself
I will be locked
I will become invisible, not breathing
Fire-spitting
And then angels will come
Angels come, when a client ripened
As if an inexorable clock tick in sky
And on the earth – a sand-glass is our heart
But it is broken through, almost through
And our senses pour like a grain of sand
Pour in the river. which washes our memory,
Doing us plastic
And who will believe, what God is it?
Is it difficult to be God? Is it difficult
to educate God?
More not difficult what to understand the
destiny
Or to cancel all wicked and to draw a large sun
With in a number of rays, bearings warmly
and gladness
Filament of life – only spider web
Eternity of the soul – only expectation of
nirvana...
a hyacinth of weaved emotions in somewhat of a supersonic state of unravel.....the charaacter definitely in need of respite....
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
a set of interwoven emotions of a voice confused as the title suggests.