I am so far from dreaming about
a cursed heart. That's how far away
is the star that will be
the last to go out.

The uncertainty of your words
hurts me - even more than thoughts
that are lost in a moment.
Drop by drop, melancholies collide,
freshly conceived, still purple.

I dream of your memories,
I recall sadness that died in silence.
Darkness curses my cry,
the entirety of the sky
finds a mirror in your mind.

I don't hear the sound of the wind
that brings me close to your scent,
your taste, in which I still find myself.

I curse the times in which
I sought salvation.
I agree with the promise that everyone
has their own shadow.

A part of the future will forever
remain at the bottom of tenderness.
The otherness of tomorrow
will only give a few tears
that are too blue.

I will find in you the longing for which
everyone still goes to sleep.
Where do you look for words
to find your thoughts?

Or maybe it's the lack of satisfaction
that makes us disappear
into the distance, fall apart?

I hear the whisper of newborn thoughts.
I hear your words
touching chords of my loneliness.
With blossoming fingers
I comb desires,
so similar to ripe ears of rye
that will soon yield a harvest
in the form of faith, hope and passion.

I look at myself in the cracked mirror
of my gaze again - I enjoy the depths
of sea waves, emeralds
so painfully bottomless
that I lose control over my heartbeat.

My sleepless lips meet a kiss - a touch
so imprudent that the last stars
fall silent, the northern sky
kneels in mid-sentence,
the dawn tactfully turns its face away.

I do not want to admire you through
the cloudy glass of everyday life;
I demand all your senses,
the freshness of the first spring rain,
days never seen before,
a passion so fervent that the Sun
loses its shadow
and the night forgets to turn off the light.

The Dark Messiah, I bring you
the Sun on a silver plater
of conscience, hungry for hope.
I give you back the tenderness,
fertility and freedom
that you constantly pursue.

I am not the same word
that escaped from your lips.
I do not associate myself
with the thought that wounds
the thin skin of the mind.

The Dark Messiah, take off
these shackles from yourself,
throw off the thorny shadow
from your back.
I will dance so that you will hear
about my existence.

I will fall in love with you
so much that all people will doubt
the proximity of heaven.
Distracted, enslaved by a glass dream,
I delight in the journey
of your hands on the map
of my body.

The Dark Messiah, I have found enough
truth in myself to resurrect
the overpopulated lie.

I'm setting out on a journey,
even though the scarlet stars
are not in my favor.

I follow the light on your temple,
ready to dress in glory,
to become familiar
with eternity.

I omit the crumbs of passion,
I part with the closeness
I so ardently desire.

The Dark Messiah, I visit your
vanished horizon, I fall at the feet
of your heart.
Will you give me a handful of mist,
so that the mundane farewell
will stop bothering me?

On the beads of tears that I count down
the days I miss and look for.

Lend me a little truth -
let the future become a pretext
for returning.

It is only a petrified hope,
nothing more.
It's just one unfinished breath.

I am falling apart in the cradle
of your naked hands.
My body, nailed to the cross
of heaven, tries to please
silence.

I touch your delicate wrists
subtly, I read the prophecy
and the lost heartbeat
in them.

I approach your vast chest,
I search for the stars on it
that would show me
the way back to love.

My sticky fingers brush
your green words; thoughts
envy their own names.

Covered with a blanket
woven from your dream,
I long to reconcile with my soul,
to regain control of my heart.

Please, kiss my temples, let me
feel the glow
of your broad shadow.
I am not the lie that youth
fights for.