The reflection of the earth is sleeping,
as my soul becomes sacrifice
in the ceremony of her dreams.
The sun’s smiles
warm my face,
but when I wrote to God about love
he pointed at the wind…
Out there, on the mountains of spring,
I was charmed by a fairy in her dance,
with the wave of her golden hair
caressing her white body.
Silent echoes
in the forests of the anemones
were sending hymns to her beauty.
So I found myself in Flanders,
seeking her drunken breath
in the temples of the repentant.
Diseases of nothing
tied His feet on wood,
but I wasn’t afraid to touch them
inside the tears of my prayer.
I met her in Gelderland,
stabbing happiness
with her guilt.
I kissed her in the canals of Utrecht
and under the bridge too far.
I painted her
inside the nightmare of her escape.
I violated her aura,
to taste the sky,
but she whispered to me hell.
For one tiny moment
I wanted to kill her.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem