The pillow
Boiling flesh
Like the clouds of the sky
And the waves of the sea.
In the kingdom of the coral
In the depth of the sea
I ride my melancholy
And drink the sea.
If Apollo was a clumsy statue
And knows nothing but lies and confusion
What is the sun's fault?
She plays with the sky in cordiality of its filose poles,
Divides her liver with who she loves
And bestows the fresh cool water of her nipples.
By the crystal strings,
The mermaids hang,
Foxes eat their livers,
Earth devils drink their blood,
And hornets nest in their skeletons.
The ship is sinking
We cling to the blue collars of the angles!
You,
O prince of the clouds
O who chases the lightning
And rides the storms guffaw.
O you whose shadow is red eyed,
Devils play in-between your intestines
I am angry at you…
The moon's lips had swollen.
A moon,
Lazy and yawns
On his bed,
The angles plant in his chest
The iris flowers
And the agate rubies,
An impertinent and impudent hunter
Sharpens the talons of wolves
To snap its heart.
Satans and demons
Climb the walls,
The sneezing of the Autumn
Hit the eyes of the sun with the flu,
The appetites of the waves are beach coasts...
Crowds of crocodiles
Annihilate the villages
And the Green City
Grinds my heart between two hills.
