Death crawled on the tender underside
The body threatened to explode in fear
Up there, on the first floor, you were alone
With sweaty fear between you and infinity
What seemed to matter was a dusty existence
Enclosed in divisions of space and time
In the cold cellar darkness touched your body
Smelling fearfully like yesterday’s death
There was death in the smelly dankness
These insects were creatures of the dark
Their life signified your ceasing to exist
We know their venomous bites would not matter
There is this mountain in exquisite morning light
Which will become the center of your self
And grant freedom from the flesh to the world.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem