Lo gaiter del Marroc. Vulcano
Deixa un comentari Sota el volcà.
Un lloc sota el cel,
a l’ombra del sol
i a recés de la serena.
Però quin?!
Què hi fan aquestes imatges esborrades
vigilant botiguetes sense clients?
Quin sentit té tanta arrel sense terra?
Per què aquests arbres tan bonics
tapen el bosc i els llops que hi erren?
Is the pattern going to speak for you
How far can your voice reach
Your song below the night
From my view
I can see you
Shudder where you are standing
In the vision
Cyan blue
Now
October
This time you won’t be needing me
To run along the freeway
To weigh one’s heart against the oncoming dark
You left me with the pills
We had plans but you couldn’t make it
Through the trees
What took you so long
The high grass
What took you so long
Translate the fire
The venom’s rush inside your heart
How long can winter
Colour your every word
And the skyline
Past the houses and the cities
Hyperopia
Carmine red
Now
This river
This time I will
To run along the freeway
To weigh one’s heart against the oncoming dark
You left me with the pills
We had plans but you couldn’t make it
Through the trees
What took you so long
The high grass
What took you so long