The only face having the lips I want to be kissed by
The face that beholds The lips that I crave for a haunted night
Is resting impersonal on the cold air
Its breath strengthens me
And its tranquil force fools me
So I can be real for a couple of seconds
The only hand I want to be killed by
Is that one of the bow of a black violin
The wild horses resting there have run free
For its shrill sorrow can deepen me so much deeper
Where I won't hurt but grow
Where I will be suffering happy and alone
For being reborn
So I can appreciate the skin that pulls the string
The only voice I want to be seduced by
Is mine
So I can calm myself when the beasts hit me through their cell
So I can be softening the scare of the soul when it's tortured through that hell
The fight is a song that hasn't yet made me cry
I can be the serene of my distorted entity
So I can call my name without someone to deny it
So I can proud behind my hiding
So the sirens struggle laughing dauntless on the strings
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem