Here it is, and again I have to go through my death
Returning back from a future, the girl is a woman now
And again I have metamorphosed myself
Into an unexposed solitude
The woman who was a girl the previous night
Beckons me, a dying star, for a moment of warmth
In my death I don’t want to be part of a masked album
Where, like a rose, her lips would be singing a secret music
In my world my silence and my solitude marry
And she is a language replenished with sacred fire
Any fire is not going to consume me, though
As a meteorite I have to go through death again, tonight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem