I'd like to have a hut in the wild forest density,
Made of firewood and a forest's scarcity.
Hanged high among old branches pinions,
Over jaguar caves and snake's canyons.
There, on moss, swung with a mad storm,
I'd like to have a maid - strange and warm.
Eat her breast, wounded with my teeth,
And kiss her face - given as a feast;
Hear the storm around my sinful indulge.
A thunderbolt dying noiselessly at large.
Roaring beasts, with our bodies' smell attracted.
Ruptured bodies, elevated, in the spasm contracted.
And there, through an accidental among branches hole,
I'd like to look into the night and stars that glow.
And take for god - any brightness in the sky.
And on the girl's bosom wait over the night.
But welcome the sun with a howl, scream and cry.
Live blindfolded, not knowing the Life.
And laughing boldly at the sky one night,
Not knowing redemption or prayer nor fright,
Like a fruit which devouring jaw awaits,
Fall into death darkness with rumble and yells.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem