every night I dream
about angel beings
with celestial sandy hair
and every morning
I wake up with headache
madly obsessed
with that snow-white skin
do the walls feel how do I feel?
and do the antique statues
put lipstick on their mouths?
that's correct
then, after the first chapter
I throw out to the moonless night
every god-forgotten book
forgotten like those
mean marine mammals
and think about Sandielle
too bad that I can't
sleep at night anymore
and from distance I yell
goodbye to Sandielle
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem