My heart is a snake
that consumes its self
from head to tail
and if it somehow fails
endeavours to remove
each-and-every scale
slip beneath your skin,
and ingest your heart
munch on your soul
just ever so slowly from within.
Oh, my faith
don't-leave me now
take-me to Budapest
to the River Danube,
there I will build a bridge
that crosses two distant shores
there I will plant and grow
my own, World Tree
and the universe the cosmos
will one day, just-be-my canopy?
But here sometimes I'm a tree
on a rocky outcrop
roots searching for purchase
in the silts and clay
probing examining the forest
what more can I say?
I know of an Ash tree
whose every sinew writhes
in this celestial, terrestrial soil
whose heart never dies?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem