When my arms bleed
the meaning of the words within me
fear sets down
on the verge of insomnia…
Loneliness baptizes itself in the other
Automatic, assiduously and agonizing…

The night chews stars
with werewolf teeth,
but don`t be frightened,
I will tell the peasants to enter,
to pray,
to shudder the quatrain with rhymes,
with ancient meter
for the death that follows…

In the middle of the night I sing of full moon
each ray of light
that shined
over the words of howling genre
and I sing in much anchorite rhymes
the primordial meaning of my flesh…

Don`t forget: I am misshapen,
well unpolished…
They haven`t caught me yet in any chain,
I am free of myself,
to get lost in the nothingness
of inconsistencies with me,
to breake rhythm, rhyme and syllable
in one teeth gnashing.

The night flinches of words,
dazzling only the werewolf
that knows not the language
of the prayers knelt
within the peasants…

I am ballad, epic and song
in the language spoken by the graves.
At the door of the prayer towards God
I run of nobody like I run of redemption
Just so I fall inside of me once more… And Him forgiving me!