Draw surreal
on a chalkboard. What was fire
and sea? I don't want to die.
Out of the temple, I again
looked back. Kiss him less. The line of
love was red. The mirror had no image.
O my rival God
we want to destroy each other
to be born again in the lap of a volcano.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem