My own killer
Freedom hides in me,
A barbaric source of madness,
Exposed in life to die,
Am I too lucid or a dreamer?
When the stars shake off the night,
And the moon cries on a mountain corner,
I carry with silent resignation
The rotten coffin among the graves.
A soul trapped in an eternal form
That gives birth by killing itself to the same form,
I am in solidarity with my own phantom
From the day I gave up on being human.
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