The music of the pan flutes teased the sky,
along with the smoke of the altar,
the cries of those who were about to die,
and the chants of the priests
of the minotaur gods.
And inside the dizziness of the impossible
I stretched my arms
to touch the sun
that always tells the truth.
But my hands grew heavy
and went deep in the ground.
So, I turned my wings
into leaves,
to look like a tree
and be loved by the Earth.
Father, I didn’t listen to you…
Forgive me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem