Inspiration of the Gray Rain
A sorrowful migratory vessel sails within my heart—
A low plea beneath the weight of this superstitious wave of love.
My spirit chilled by a damp wind,
Hopping like a deer encircled by cold.
Fueled by hope and the courage to resist the waves
In an unknown sea, an unfamiliar shore.
Eyes corroded by grief, confronting the pale void—
A lost illusion.
Crying endlessly like the equatorial rain,
Swaying like a flock of homeless wild pigeons
Among the blue mountains, far beyond the desert.
A whimsical spirit that will never let me borrow its wings
To reach my dreams,
To withstand the warm rain.
The deathly dawn wind—soft and secret—
Illuminates like foot soldiers.
Candles whitening our salty tears,
Twisting within the womb of the song of geniuses.
Ask me about my mysterious title—
The journey and the birth of my poems,
A festival of madness.
A rose flavored with the tattoo of absurdity and ashes,
Fragrances of sandalwood, perfumes of angels.
The spirit is the homeland—
Cities, lakes, magnificent statues.
Addicted to dreams and prolonged silence,
Sleeping on the patchwork quilt of mirages,
Drunk in gloom,
A pillow of feathers from black earth.
Ask me about tales vanished in the mist,
Ask me about submerged mirage islands,
Ask me about myself—and I don’t know where to begin
My story in the dictionary of alienation.
