Withered Garden

Withered Garden!


Of infinite stars paint your twilight
involving my heart withered and desolate
in a death of a sun that was languishing,
and the song of nightingales broke my life
leaving my loss and dry branches,
in a sky where the moon just sobbing
I agonized as sadness and grief.

Now ... goodbye my friend, companion pain
blue lady of my nights and yet
turned into halos of bitterness,
of broken dreams, offal in my heart;
verses that were silenced in a sky
orphan who became stars.

The roses and jasmine in my garden withered
hummingbird and my eyes shed blood
discharged through the veins of my hands
they were thrown into a lament
to the depths of a sea withered and serene.

My verses were silent the sound of my voice
and before you throw the pen wilt
and between wall rock and I confessed
convicted of a nonexistent love
and the blood of the sun on my layers
I run my life like the fragrance of tuberose in November
my dreams and ambitions of your own existence.
Now ... lying on my cold, dry rose
seek to find my autumns destroyed
in waiting until exhaustion hurts
to know that never came flooding
of sprays my desolate fields,
and faded in my garden ... and destroyed.
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