Pluck The Rose To Colour The Dreams
The springs of my life
Have been burnt
By the violet light of the moon
The blood turns blue in every thought
The breath turns fire in every sight
Every dropp of saliva becomes the poison for the heart.
The gust of wish shaking the hell gates
And the river dries up to death in the desert.
I don’t know
How long the night is
I don’t know the density of the dark
Neither have I known where the top is
Of my desires and the depth-less bottom lies
I don’t have any measurement to fathom.
But I only know the spread
Of the crops up to the horizon
And the scent from the center
The drug of my heart and the desire …
The horse of my wish
Jumping over the fence across the sea
And the lazy sleep keeps
Rolling down from this side to that
And the dreams turn black and white.
But I am waiting for the summer to turn
To melt the snow
And the greens to come
Then I shall scale down the hill
And pluck the rose along with the pollen
To color my all dreams.