At the end of the dream i never wake up
I live on in a thousand different scenes
from a play un acted
only felt
once there was a way
to dropp the curtain on my madness
now it only duplicates in my heart
once there was a word
to bring me back
but the deafness of fear and the mute black throat have won
it's 5 am
lovers sleep, real and remembered
and i only dance while i die
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Like Ulrike, I like your work, there seems to be a struggle between the desire for love and the past that prevents it, a theme I myself cherish.