Like a flower with numb ankles, i cannot go a single
day without a drug or a drink. The tears itself, like
paper i could pin my hopes upon. The way the vines
grow around my heart, because how i have been
worried about you. But the cliffs of life and death,
are washed by the same waves; You must gather
with full hands as many stars as you can, and
scatter them in front of your lover's path. Then wait,
to see what sort of sentimental stillness you will
be dismissing. What did you not notice before, and
why do you visit my grave, unprepared to tie together
a few scraps of the wind and make a noose for nostalgia.
Make a wing of your dreams on which you were born,
and that will never be lost, even against its own wish
to be freed. To be thunder under those gleaming sails
of lightning: A storm when a bottle of gin is finished.
A blame to commemorate my oocupation of asking,
what are we up to. Why have i came out blinded,
addicted to victory and struggle for complete addiction.
The struggle of a man's life, across the soul's fields.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem