Beneath the nursery of a violet heaven,
where stars; blazing embers of their own righteousness,
are burning flowers of the deep, cool void.
God has stretched out His hand- to touch
His beloved Man and angels have flown over the field,
red breast; skin of earth-
touching down on a rainy street with their feathery feet,
they weep
they weep
they weep continually.
The silence could not offer solace, and though I
dared not to dream or imagine the divine scenes-
I pondered on the hours, of nature and her silky blood:
how she aborts each season and begins, again
to bleed virgin tears to redeem herself from her sins.
I thought to myself,
beneath the beauty of a pearled peeling twilight,
of the light;
the essence that is within the eyes
of a new born child, as he cries
for all the days of his unnatural life.
While on his deathbed he remembers:
The milk of a mother’s breast,
the beautiful apple he fondled with innocents-
suckling the life from her body he remembers:
It was then that he was immortal.
Extremely well-written. A very powerful concluding stanza.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I think this is just amazingly beautiful, Amberlee! ! !