Happiness is to bury my shame-filled soul within you
Happiness is to bury my shame-filled soul within you,
Our springs to return, darkened, from clear skies above,
From the future, with leaves worn by nerves, in silence,
Your tears, a desert horror, like an eternal pain.
Words of reproach, like subtle drumbeats,
Latin rhythms, in our green, full hearts,
Youth, linger a while in apocalyptic time, unyielding,
To your spirit, I will build an elevated Olympus.
Mirrors of our past, gleaming memories,
Bring back the face of love in our days, ceaselessly,
My youth, wretched mammoth, learning with the muses,
Until the day you will bury my soul in poetry.
The mask of verses remains indecipherable dust,
Grotesque, of my stellar genius, square brain, stable,
May your spirit find rest in unknown words,
In the rhythms of our hearts, full of chlorophyll, pure.
In this dance of eternity, our souls entwine,
In an embrace of love that will endure through time,
May our spirit remain, in poetry, alive and immortal,
In a universe of words, like a melancholic setting.
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