Friday, October 3, 2008

Wild Roses

The trace of your breasts
on my palms
Scorches like burning blood,
Your bosom’s silky smell,
mad and merciless
Carries the sad news of life…
and tidings of demise…

A life without you, alone
without the sun,
A lone life that follows…
A lifetime after you…
a demise that arrives,
And stays aroused in your core
and at your feet…

Shutters thrown open
with burning hands,
Outside, a pouring rain
In dark, gloomy sheets…
the tiny, bare garden
Shivers below and recalls
Its wild yellow roses…

Translated By: Tatul Sonentz

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