The sleepy morning
woke
with a shiver
in the coldest
night of the year
The sleepless birds
charged
into the sky
And a snake
wheeled further
into an unending
cosmic circle
on a twig
(floating)
in a languid
bottomless well
Its crippledtail
(with much tenderness)
steers the vessel further
toward a hopeless mythical shore.
The well is deep and dark
The night has not yet left
And deep under the ground
the snake forms an unearthly constellation
With the few remaining stars reflected down
In the deep
Untamedabyss.
One day
to the snake
in its mystic duty
fulfilled
Death will come
as a peacock
It will unfur its
feathers and reveal
all the freshly reaped souls
attached
in its tail
(that strangely will look like eyes flickering in his qeer artful dance)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem