Frankly, one who loves words is a plain scoundrel,
Like you are dissecting God analysing them.
I wrote so many sheets spending them in studying
Moving from "sunt" to "sum", learning a great deal.
You change water into wine sitting at the pier,
Say: "Get up and walk". But the water inside me is
Bound turning into ice. Autumn’s coming nearer
Ready to put on the city gown of its leaves.
Over again I barely found the street though
Knowing inside and out every single house
In it. Air in the night had the reek of gunpowder
Mixed up with sulphur. Hooked on the spire,
The moon wanders round homelessly like a wolf.
Don’t let me down, and don’t turn out to be weaker,
Don’t look so coldly keeping from me aloof.
The moon rips open my left side with a sickle.