A wardrobe, a mirror, a chair,
no stars, my room, a window,
the night as always, and I’m not hungry
with a bubble gum and a dream, one hope.
There are lot of men outside, and everywhere,
and beyond the fog, the morning.
There are cold trees, a dry land
steady fish are the same as water,
sleeping nests under warming doves.
There isn’t a woman in here, I need one,
since many days my heart wanted to kneel
beneath some caress, or a word
The night is hard, between the walls, the shadow
slowly as the dead people, is dragging.
That woman and I were stuck by water
her skin under my bones
and my eyes inside her sight
we have dead lot of times
at the crack of dawn.
I remember her name,
her lips, her tranparent skirt
she had a sweety breast, and there was
a lot of distance in her body side by side
form nipple to nipple there are a hundred of lips and hour,
from pupile to pupile, a heart, and two tears
I lover her from the bottom of all the abysses,
from the last flight for the last wing.
When the flesh hadn’t been flesh at all, and the soul
hadn’t been either.
It’s clear to love. I know I love her
She’s so hard, so warm, so clear!
I need her tonight
There’s a violin comming up from the street to my bed.
I looked two childs in front of a sideboard yesterday
the naked dummies were combing themselves.
The train whistle worried me for 3 years
nowadays I know it’s just a machine.
Any good bye it’s better than the everydays
to each thing, at the each moment, the tall
Unprotected blood, soft night,
tobacco from insomnia, sadness bed.
I’m going to go to another place
and I take my hand with me, wich speaks and writes a lot.
Translated by Colin Carberry