POets
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Some other torn placeWith scraps to the misinterpreted fields,At stages of grain for uncovered spaceWhere the smothered sunRevealed all of bleeding love.A nude back held the same streaks,The same lashesTorn towards Heaven, above –
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Keep sealing your mirrors, display to facesSo emptied of disposition towards you,While your wings face low,Giving nothing to ashes.How much can the weather renewAll the fog that deprives you of graces?From the lips that thirst,By the arms that hurt – Without the heart now stranded at the shore,Failing at the spoken euology.You keep trembling with
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Where you shall beIn the coming days,I implore you not to pass from this realm,Without my whisper into your ear. Without the returned gentlenessYou have bestowed always upon me,In the darkest of days,When hope seemed lost, and doom seemed endless. Without my mouth near your ear,There will be everything for me to fear.When tears flow
Modern Romanticism 