You were my father,
and my lover.
You were younger,
then you looked.
I enjoyed that inversion of yours,
you despised the reality of mine.
You keep seducing a corpse.
Too dark for the night,
too dead to die,
too empty to bleed.
I'm not a murderer,
my Sun is in Scorpio.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem