'You are my Socrates, '
you said
whilst blinded in obscurity
and running from nowhere.
Violets crushed by our naked feet
left a purple stain
on my tainted cupola.
Childlike
me
watched the mad horses
and with jagged cord
dragged an unploughed field
into hope and sense,
into hope and sense.
2.
I said 'enough'
and he covered my floor
with poppy petals.
A funeral of my love for him.
It is Easter and my naked feet bleed
for I am crucified in
lost adoration.
3.
Orbital I am
in you.
Lost in your mind games
and blackened as space unlimited.
My clothes are scattered
only stars cover
my nakedness.
The vertebrae broke in my neck
when my head turned towards
your anger,
and you,
flying, flying, through a second,
buckled and rabid.
A satellite perplexed,
shattered the god in my eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem