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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem