In front of behind
I stare at the sand
With grass growing through
A crystallised hand
The grass that’s not green
The pink sea is black
As you look through a door
When you lie on your back
On your back is the weight
The weight of the world
With Satan aloft
The spiritual worm
Dormant incantations
An angel behold
In a closed fist open
A warm heart, cold
Death to the ones
Who believe in the truth
As a burning you’ll feel
The burning of you
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem