| My soul is a wicked vulture
|
| Who whishes to steal the celestial treasure
|
| To revel in bliss and rapture
|
| I will devour the blood-red skies
|
| And reach the point where the sun never dies
|
| Even if it may scorch both of my eager eyes
|
| The torrid star of Knowledge
|
| Burns my gilded wings to ashes
|
| I fall in the maze of my mind
|
| My corpse is lying in the crass
|
| And there are many rows of rapacious crows
|
| Craving for carrions of my carcass
|
| But as a newborn phenix
|
| I’ll rise again from the styx
|
| Of my ignorance
|
| As eternity unfurls before me
|
| I make my way through space
|
| When I reach my spiritual palace
|
| I cannot, I can’t see…
|
| My lightened gem I have not found
|
| And I’m ungently hitting the dirty ground
|
| Hence my peers gathering around
|
| In the air you will see my silhouette
|
| Falling in a deadened sunset
|
| As bitter as tears of Juliet
|
| In the bleeding heart of a Poet |