Torn between hedonist and priest,
half begging you to take my hand,
half believing in love and giving,
the other half disgusted, screams
less pain, less journey, less love.
I come to seek this wide water,
a comfort of silence and peace.
A bride of serenity and despair
beckons me to a dark cabin
where I steel myself and heal.
The rage of the world washes by
in the bloodless river hidden.
Safe, silent, walled from love,
I am insular; no hatred invades
the safety of my island totem.
Where once I dreamed of water,
a desiccated wasteland spirit calls.
The waters pass by at their pace.
I burn docks and pray in shadow:
conceal me from blood, from flesh.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem