Translated to English by Manavaz Alexadrian
The caravan of camels loaded with fancy
in a desert full of green sand.
Ah mother! All the grass
swim in my recollections
and the wind
beside me
scatters the dry bark of trees to this way and that way.
The pink milk of the female wild gazelles
drops over dried flowers
and I cannot
remember the dream of a cold day
the day in which
a thick fog rose from my mind
and the dry bark of a tree
beside me
slowly
went to sleep.
You reddened
your lips
with blood
they had slain all the cats
in the street
and in your open eyes
you reflected part of the sky.
Your lips were red
and the yellow leaves
were falling on fastened claws.
We were worn out
too worn out
to dread the ruin of blood.
The child
is suspended
in a bubble which she has made in her mouth;
the rest are
palaces,
streets
and suspended trees.
A burning light
pierces
the bubble.
Everything
drops slowly,
the child too.
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