Her face is a dying star in the distance.
She blinks when I feel her again
As the alcohol of a lost feast that still sounds
Inside the dream where she lives.
According to triumphs oblivion begins her thaw,
As well as a simple clock defeat love.
She returns like a dethroned queen from heaven
That she filled with crosses to make me bleed.
Her body slips from my hands as magma made stone
Falling down the volcanoes of my native country.
Now she is memory of a barren land.
No child she hides in her reflection.
Our nights stayed in the crevices
Of a lonely building in the middle of love.
Very amazing expression shared here with reality. Wise sharing.10
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Great lines of a beautiful poem, loved this poem