The constellations share
The travesty
And sometimes I fumble
In the trivialities of the labyrinths.
Impoverished are these hands,
Tremulous and calloused
The roads disengage,
The strands of time twine
With oblivion
And there is nothing to do
But drink the madness away,
Cast the shadows astray in a shamble.
The moon conceals the vestige
Of your feet
The scent of your hair dies
As the harrows of the wind
Roar and grovel the overture
Of the heaven’s demise.
The stones are restless
As the night coils into day -
The stones and I share the same fate:
Unnoticed,
Embellished yet still unbeknown.
The city buoy remains aflame
Emblazoned upon the tapestries
Of this randy city,
Everything remained intact:
From the waters,
To the heavens,
The mire,
The ire of the automobiles,
The paroxysmal glaze of the Sun
And all the empty people.
This soliloquized quandary -
This temporary madness
Is taking all of me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i felt sadness as i read... i stop. md