What is the need for life? Now death
Is the serpent contained in your breath?
The kiss of the world is a forked tongue
Is it not? 'Quench full your heart till its rung.'
Let it be so coiled-up it devours oneself.
Release your inner demons, skin yourself.
Peel back those doubting layers of torment
Uncoil self-aware out of every malcontent.
Grow silver-haired memories of despair
Now allow them to wither, make their lair.
What do you care, in these golden days?
If a serpent finds no warmth as it lays.
If it has crawled under a desert rock
Let it thirst cold until it has taken stock.
What is energy? What is all this matter?
Why can't neither one be simply the latter?
Answer-is - they can't be destroyed?
Both contain forked tongues, redeployed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem