The yellow sky spirals into a scream,
A hundred tortured sunflowers begging for mercy.
The absinthe river washes the sinful bed,
The room now naked, except canvas and sketch.
Darkness now descends, twilight approaching fast.
Aroma of burned potatoes, salivating skulls.
The Cyprus outside, now a silhouette, lingers shamelessly,
The starry night ridicules the poverty beneath.
My ear now listens to her heartbeat,
My brush now desires the painter of Tahiti.
Life is still-vegetables, fruits and the jar of absinthe,
Life is a wheat field, million crows slowly decimating.
Dying alone,
The angles in amusement, whisper,
“For you, this sadness will last forever”.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem