Fragments II


I eat the beauty of the night
The warmth of the wind is my drink
I stare over the city, with a sigh
Lost in the loveliness of the stars
Yes, they are unreachable, too far
But I can’t quit looking, without a blink
And I hope, even if I deeply know
That no help from there will ever come
This rejected salvation is the thorn
Which pierce my heart with sorrow
My love is a mirror without reflection
Broken picture of a dying soul in dereliction


Notes: More fragments from the Sunday’s Poet thirty year-old notebooks. No form and some poor rhymes…

[ Traduire ]

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