Running through big circles of fire,
Going as far as I can
On the velvet trail I walk and weep,
Feeling the wind tenderly swaying
On my back.
I reach the white marbled piano,
Wishing countlessly to play
Entrancing tunes of summer, of glee.
But all wondrous virtues are obscured today,
It is wearing a mask of thorns and
Encased troubles of the mundane,
Dressed in black rose petals and dry garlands.
I press them with gloved hands and hurt me,
My fingers are springing bloody tears,
On the cold flaps, cracking steeply
Like a crystal stone merciless struck by a wall.
A gray cloak falls over my shoulders,
Stings me with thousands of needles
And crushes the spiral of a bare heart,
Which for a breath failed to remember
The immanent, blessed exudation
Of the Holy Grail.
Topic(s) of this poem: life, mystical, philosophical , remember
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.