In despair, beyond pain,
I will watch my dreams in rimless eyes of wet faces.
The lake had been sending back
the white and black shrouds every day.
They were jumping one by one, old and young,
from the twisted planks holding geraniums.
A warm prayer on the lips, what was left worth enduring?
The innocence, the guilt, the shame?
Clinging to bloody lumps of happiness
who is going to have a last laugh?
Time is breathing gloom, body is attached to a pole.
