The Same Black Wind

Why are you playing with my soul again?

Why are your temples still bleeding?

Take off that crown of thorns,

stand up and brush off the ash.

Disordered thoughts keep shouting

at each other, they want you to give them

back their freedom and loneliness.

Your purple words spread over

my vegetating body.

The appetizing touch of your lips

made me turn my back to heaven in shame.

The body lost in itself,

the snow-white rose of that heart

stripped of the remains of thorns,

all this remained in me,

so that I would start the world anew,

that I would find solace between

the lines of your graphomaniac poem.

The same black wind shakes me,

I am shaken by embittered time.

Time that will not come back until

my last dream is uttered.

I hide all my dreams today under my pillow.

The silent pain does not fit this puzzle,

it does not feel sorry for a losing dream.

Peel an orange of the sun here.

The effeminate clock lowered hands sadly.