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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2004-08-18 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
My love,
I am going to die tonight. The dusk is falling over these tall acacias – Their flowers rosy, white and violet blue – Three subversive brown-skinned men, Waiting at the window to wail and then To receive in exchange of romance Their poisonous sweet Arabian fragrance. I hope they are not your messengers. Or are they? Your voice is creeping through the night Turning my shadow into a bone fresh and bright. My love, I am going to lie down tonight. The sun was burning my back like a pie, The moon is burning my face with her omniscient eye. The sheets still bear the shapes of your thought I am longing for and I wish I had not. My love, I am going to be silent tonight. A pale horse is trapping sinners on the chaotic alleys of the city. His shuddering breath is empty of sound and of pity. I can see his body dissolving potent, I can touch him bearing it. In the morning I am going to have another content And a streak of your heat.
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