Six fifty he's out by the well
Lips still moist from her lipstick
They'll go down a path with the bell
His arm cradling hers, she's a fine pick
Down the park they walked
Talking about clocks and business
The praises never started and never ended
But in all suddenness
She smiled and told him of a valiant soul
Him, she believed in him she said
A rosy cheek soared and she's a doll
In his arms, he wished they were in bed
Army of preachers going down the street
Down this road their motel room
Once the they passed, the cursed fleet
She knew it was time for Thanatos to roam
Before they became an origin
She took by the hand purse in the other
He drooled for her, this mighty virgin
But she was unlike any other
To the queerest place
Where carousals were in slumber
He looked unto her face
Her palm in his hand, this was a moment to remember
Call Isis and let hear this story
Phobos witness the fear you always adored
Hermes witness your son's victory
Aphrodite, watch your daughter open the door
She took the nail from her purse
White agony down his neck beacon
And now she mutters a divine verse
'Für Mein Liben'
Disoriented he looked upon her
His eyes are deceiving
She is neither a lady nor a sir
And his poor sanity stopped believing
Rose lipstick wiped with back of hand
Her Black hair to the ground
Her love rendered to sand
And what's left … A haunting sound
Pistol in hand being played by his digits
'You took him away from me
And now nothing I have is legit
I'll show the suffering you made him see'
Listeners of folklore I've heard
30 shots each followed by its own scream
And till the next morning once dawn burned
And to all it will seem
The nightmare was brought by revenge
One's own nightmare is another's fantasy
Daydream crows, the grave is avenged
And he and her march now, null of heresy
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem