On a stale and stagnant night
Suspended between clear and clouded consciousness
I invented a straightway to heaven
Having surpassed the treachery and fright
Of the dark wood
And from the continuous stepping in and out
Of the blinding light
Becoming lovers with the shadows
The slavery in which I wrapped my whole being
With amorphous translucent shackles
That was pure torture
Very visibly indicated by my tired face—
It was lifted off of me and I was free finally
For my design was flawlessly executed…
These were my last thoughts
Before my heart stopped sighing
Forever.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem