Seven swords above me
seven swords in my form
dangling from the ceiling
plunged into my feelings
the blades of endeavour were so worn
now my body is a stone
laying here all alone
within the storm
please depart me
please depart from me
I can't take it anymore
May the flowers that you bear
be sprung up from my despair
may rain be the kingdom of my tears
those torrential emotions of my years
over moments barely shared
Nine circles below me
nine circles down I go
for betraying my own life
for turning love into strife
I transmuted all my pleasures into woe
still uncorrupted flesh
but my essence is a mess I know
please condemn me
there's no-one to defend me
you can lay me low
may the weeds of my delusion
be cut down in conclusion
may the fires of my self-pity burn
with those healing methods I learned
in hope this lonesome grips loosens
may you wield your rose dagger
and plunge me into the here-after
let no flowers grow where I lay
they would only hang their heads
in wishing they were dead
spare them of my dismay.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem