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￭ Epistle of a millennial
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2017-03-16 | |
Dressed in the bright mantle of the night
you become high and transparent,
dreamy silhouette in the crescent moon
on the face of the mirror that silences pass through:
words have sleeping letters and sounds
heard only by the heart.
Ravishing, stretching angel wings,
eye to eye is lost
and the abyss gets born from the foliage.
A soft voice startles
like a mistletoe leaf,
even the herbs indulge in the flavour,
your body flows like a spring
through the sweet sap of flowers ...
The morning after the dew
purple in your hot skin
will get me full of spices.
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