now you are into the next trap
of the foxhole of words
and i ask, how does a sphinx look like?
we don't have it here
and you start chopping realities
say: do you know a lion?
a lion is true somewhere in Africa
even if you have not seen one
and the eagle? you have seen its black wings
the feathers are tree
and the wind of course that
blows your hair, they are all true
and would you really want to touch
a Sphinx? and ask me
if there is such a creature
that asks a man a question to himself
that either turns him to
ash or king?
the question is true and you
are asked and
you must be ready of your
choice: death or life?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem