Hear

Behind the black olives redianted* the moon this night is handing over a bloomed sign. Why are you going to bed alone in colorful bed sheets? Hear! In Syracusae troubadours are singing in one love, about that while you burn into, you burn endlessly. But you are falling asleep. A domestic bird, hidden behind curtains of brocade and pressed her lips on a golden spider. A homeless night in the black olives and a sound of our Beyond. * ? neologism created by the author expressing that something is shined on by radiance