اصل بول
ENترجمہ ابھی دستیاب نہیں۔ اصل بول دکھائے جا رہے ہیں۔
It is not a fire
That falls off the sky
These are not comets
Under the lid of the eye
It is not a plague
That causes the rash
It is not contagious
In the lazaret for one
It is not a tragedy
If no one else saw the blood
It is not a disaster
If it blasts underground
It is not bad news
If it's not news at all
It is not an epitaph
As the breath's not the word
It is a shiny light of pleroma
Cutting its rays off
Banishing limbs
From the body
Into the exile
As limbs hold themselves tight while falling
Like it was a flesh of
A disintegrating
Petrified reptile
And as the wild drum of the pulse hits its last notes, you are closer to the truth
It is not the world that is dying, it is you
