My nativity at peril
I wanted to stay away from myself
seeking anonymity in inwardness
Death had drawn a circle
my mode of survival depended
on the hopelessness of life
The ant-hills were growing!
The final assault will take place at night
in spiritual depths.
I will be seething with fake acoustics.
Kissing the blue lips of dawn, night bids adieu.
I will move quietly behind the corpse.
A dark tribute to the mother of sorrow.
Flames on river,
my body was burning in blue waves
I was repeating history...