How many golden arrows has your body caught
Oh, Danae
They’ve sprout and turned into a drought
In one day
But fanging in the very flesh of life
You cut yourself with amber knife
And give the rivers way
I’ve come to sleep by one of thee
And Jesus Christ, how much bad blood has spawn in me
Oh, dirt
I pray you set me free
From this eau morte
Regina,
With my very being
I sing the body living
Cantica di terra marina
XIII
© Copyright: Запах Сарсапарели, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119040306410
Свидетельство о публикации №119040306410
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