The story of
my life is
written through my
poems
The story of
my life is
horrible
For my parents
my life is
an authentic and
evident banality
The story hasn't
got a page
of memory and
I'm not remembered
Nobody wants to
write own story
except the artists
The story of
my life is
exacting and strange
to read
The story of
my life is
kept in a coffer
that it has
got a difficult
and strict codification
Sometimes my life
uses a resisting
arch, cockade and
poisonous arrows
My life is
a killing and
complicated composition
I and the
elves compose the
story of my
life
My life doesn't
resist at strong
and strange cocktail
This song has
got a dirty
and funny secret
but an horrible
sacrifice and an
impossible revelation
Everybody has got
fear for her
coming because I
disappear hurriedly
My life is
a total enigma
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Yes, it may be an enigma but what kind? Not the kind which is impenetrable, or the one which is unresponsive. If anything you know so much about your enigma that you have many doors by which to enter your Interior Self and tame it to your heart's desire or your mind's content. This is like the chaos that precedes creation in myth, all this energy has to be ordered by a poetic mind. Oh, wait, this is a product of that poetic mind - YOURS!