The tongue slips
over the grayish-blue
edge
of a Catalonian knife.
Salt.
Tambours bang.
Me or him.
The dark dance starts.
A step
… a jump.
The night -
an award for death.
A red dress -
survival.
Curse eternal -
Carmen.
Corrida - ever.
The knife stabs in the back
and the crowd cries
'More! '.
Breath, breath - the edge
squeals…
*‘Ultimo! (Spanish)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem