Vultures of darkness
Are eating my eyeballs
Ringing in the ears
Are bells
Of deep silence
I knelt to pray
To any star
That arises first
At last I tightened my nerves
With my own drops of blood
Made festoons of lights
Now not only winds
But even the storms
Cannot blow them off
That delicate intoxication
Which you enjoy drinking
Is the blood of grape
It is the thirst of life
Lost by the crushed being
At your hands
How long will it be?
Only until
In the milk of night
Falls
A drop of sun
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Is the blood of grape It is the thirst of life Lost by the crushed being At your hands How long will it be? Only until In the milk of night Falls A drop of sun.. very fine thoughts and expressions dear poet. thank u. tony