art is the offspring of sadness and suffering
monochramy
...the beaten beggar
...syphylic prostitutes
all of us...in the throes of joyless and hopeless love...
disease
poverty
..the undoing of soul!
the livid pallor of flesh
...our muse.....has become....a formless shadow..
..us of open-eyed blindness
we are prisonners of a solitude that encloses us
...like the stranglehold of our own arms..
delicate
violent
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem