Molten wax
on candlesticks
deep
there my head
toppled
for you my sweet,
skull-demons
keeps me awake
while your beauty sleeps,
are we dead men living
under the torment
of a captor's keep
for a honeycomb
laced with nectars
bitter weep.

They will fall to the ground...
Blossoms of the cherry tree...
Without you,
being in my womb...
ripening grain,
And the heady scent
of primrose flowers
from the moon...
and his dust...


به روی زمین خواهند ریخت...
شکوفه هايِ درختِ آلبالو...
بی آنکه تو،
در رَحِمَم باشي...
دانه اي،
در حالِ رسیدن...
و عطرِ خوشِ پامچال ها...
از ماه
و خاكِ او....

Oh the omnipresent soul
like a terracotta sponge
absorbing our resolve
now and forever after.