WOMEN ELECTED
As a current of fresh water through the pungent sea,
Our secret loves, tenderly entwined,
Pass through this impious century, to the thought
Lasts, and has not put his soul into his flesh.
We have the drunken smile of the white wedding
Who mix our touching and milky contours,
And in our eyes survives the last beauty
Of the world, and in our hearts the last priesthood.
We drive among the balsams and flowers
The slowness of our rhythmic steps like stanzas,
Carrying alone the sovereignty of the stuffs,
The stones and the make-up, and the pride of the colors.
We are the mirror of ourselves, the dawn
Which is repeated at the bottom of the silent lake,
And our passion is a precious wine
Who burns, contained in a double amphora.
But sometimes the fierce gleam of our looks
Fear those who are damned,
And the horror lives in us as well as in our elders
Who lamented the nights in their scattered hair,
For through joy and unspeakable grace
And the royal disdain of our grave love,
We sobbed to meet
In front of us the great open gulf of the Impossible ...
Nina <3
Commentaires
Enregistrer un commentaire