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The ring of fire on your body

echoing the same

color of the Dawn Ring,

and your lips, ideographic,

shutting up the same pure fiery

form; your eyes: two more halos.

The brusque mallet,

anxious noise

of coitus,

of a beast

yearning for to have Wings!

The spur of my ten nails

on your hip, -- whip! from the palm;

your blazing hair

held in my hand, like reins.

And a single feeling of shared flesh,

apportioned and reunited in one;

one single body,



made of an ambient half-light bronze,

equal to the white foal

that turns into a bay foal

under the weave of the day.

And clarinets emerge from the horizon,

explode a flock of Pegasus (others)

kicking, throwing tawny manes!

Now your knees, your elbows fixed,

your battering ram hips with which I beat up myself

and unlock me to get free from the stone castle

that I had built around my lost nobleness to survive

                                                                   [the days;

those your beloved hips suddenly become slender…


The bodies weight escapes from us

-- and, in the midst of the imponderable, cruel Splendor:

we are One.

We can fly away.



Igor Buys

08-03-2014 a 01-01-2017

Versão do autor para a língua inglesa






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