***

The sky in the morning pictures your face.
You errant flies, turning to a tunes.
You all from hades, but your ring’s embrace
Flattery imprisons into clarified noose.

By evening enraged in a vault of reverie,
Grasped at my elbow on the rose’s flash.
What to play, if as melancholy lily
Taste of our passion? I’ll drag your ash.

The steel blossom master and the damask Orpheus,
I have forgotten a goldfinch adultery.
You strut following as a chain of fairies
But a blizzard covers up snowfall sorcery.

Your feelings dark like the shadow of gleam.
music of fear swings color ovums.
waves of love. I ask, forget me,
if happen, that memory is equal to woe.

In your passion penetralia for persons mound
The monster manifold theatre, you’re mantis.
Fissuring up to sky through a tier of mount,
crossing an ambush of youth to me on pith.

Even not so skilful to catch the juggler’s ball ,
I’m taming your flights to absorbing palms,
patches of wings and oscillation of moon to boff,
acumenless who we to each other. Are we pals?

The chrysalis sleeps cherishing shell’s sol,
the pain leaves a dust in desire frail.
You having flown by a tunnel, as flower sobs,
prefer to float in the nirvana rain.

A certain conveyed the blade but forgotten to take it back.
In Rome play cards, but in Peking play bone for pleasure.
You outside of game but as it is sweet with you to ack,
That when you lost you gorgeous for a rage’s leasure.

Night inhales a shadow, but contacts a patch of same lance
having reflected us in each other, closes delight.
the master steel blades I catch your semblance,
but even the Angel in your halo will blind.