the dark troubles in my soul
virgin Moon kisses a hundred buds of twigs
and the night have white love
forest, meadow and sky are listening
the end of this miracle will be endless
the sun, the struggle, is flawed
troubles crow on grapes on hearts
the moon is falling, and so is my dream
the chases are coming, the chase is pubic, sad
and looks forward to the evening: to create a new moon
I am an angel and the slowest beggar
the great silence is silence, I tell you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem