I travel ever more into an endless world of abyss,
Seeking to find any color,
Or simply seeking to fathom the darkness,
To cut apart its dark logic
Into a myriad of infinite spaces.
Yet I cannot, or will not, find any healing light,
Nor any other cure for the night.
I would stalk your night like a phantom,
If there ever were a day.
But it is never-ending;
It is life, and then death,
And then only shadows.
It comes to a stop in its spiral,
Then pulls me down farther
When it jerks
To all-encompassing life again.
And so I live, darkness filling the voids
That light could never find.
An entreaty for aid goes unheard,
For everything is empty,
A rich absence that fills the air
With its thickness-
A dreamy, formless labyrinth
That wants to erase.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem