Fabulous Orpheus is you.
You have sun in your bag
And different things.
Your fingers slides on my neck,
And between us
There are thousand wings
Of black birds and plague cities.
They are so tired
From heat and cold
In snow and fire.
This is my love
Falls like dirt on your squares and streets.
I look into your book,
And blood drips on your favorite sheets,
On tangled lines of your palms,
On mornings and days.
I have million ways
To destroying singular chance.
First day in a foreign land
Br;ught you to cold autumn
But
Here stayed only your warmth –
And my flowers are no longer rotten.
It’s dearer than any wound of body,
I will go outside at night,
I will show my meat to the blizzard
That grips my heart too tight.
I will hear your whisper around,
It will soothe any tears and pain,
The florets have lost their pallor
And the snow will become a rain.
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