07 April, 2021

A Lost Soul

You won't wash away
my shame of wrath ‒
you will just blow up a flame.

You will just purify
my eroded bones;
though you kiss me all over,
you won't unite
what was cut off.

You won't bring back
what was vital in me;
will quench my thirst. 

By spring I will come into flower,
by summer I will boil, 
I will dissolve in the colors of fall,
in the twilight of winter I will be gone.

A Lost Soul © Ladanseuse
Transl. "Ztracená duše"

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