Summer is an executioner
Moonlight curls its white fingers
Joy threatens the war of the heart
She brings symbols from Rachel
Sad idols of the valley of the Kings
Buried in divine revelry
Abject eyes of the sullen religion
The palace is bent to the rabid ground
Ambition is a maze that devours grace
You gather remorse like a paupers wage
Your fields are reflections of fauve hopes
When the harvest comes your rocks cry
The fishermen toiled all night
Lanterns and fires in the cold courtyard
Fallow ground cracked like drought
Awakened by the dying
Awakened by meaningless existence
All the dead burying the dead
Everything becomes civil gestures
On the edge of a hang noose
All this rotting harvest
Pray the Lord of harvest sends harvesters
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem