martes, 5 de agosto de 2014


In retrospective, 

a sharp pain is with me, 

a sad and lonely lady 

my beloved muse. 

That Moon,

in red eclipse of agony. 

I'm a human. 

Should I have lovers of flesh? 

They are not enough to me. 

Flesh is not enough 

          with his mortal pain. 

I prefer the Moon, 

I prefer all 

her immortal pain 

       on my eyes of bard. 

          *    *   *

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