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hurt
poetry [ ]
de Alina Manole [Alma]

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
by [mihamax ]

2004-09-01  |   

Literary Translation - Translations of classic and original poetry and other materialsThis text is a follow-up  | 



no height, do deepness, no other being
could ever tear us from His love…

they’re washed out all the pictures
the look is giving up brushing the side of the desert
they’re more and more coming the daily snakes between us
the evenings are flowing, drifting, melting
and you’re living

honey they’re not anymore growing hearts inside me
my soul doesn’t feed any more soles
no stalk of god in blood
my crushed breast is now asleep with traces from your vertebras rest
the kundalini ’s snake is coiling the taste of that violet kiss

still believe that my scream will come out through my skin
it’ll have lighted feathers I’ll wash them and he’ll come
someone to call me out to say
Hurry! the water is apart
tomorrow is coming to stay a new god
born in exile

waters are flowing falling from the sky my angels are stuck in my shoulders
with wet wings is coming the end of the world the deluge is rushing here again
do you remember the clouds had not anymore holes it was lighting
as through an axis mundi I was not scared anymore
I’m opening the window at God request time out
on my shoulders the angels are wet up to the skin the yell
is running out through my paunch I don’t like apples
I do not fear of snakes where are your yellow fingers
where is the smell of musk and imperial leather
where are the others, my love
to write there
the bible of us

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