A Solemn Source of Oblivion

I am not afraid of your light,

I am not afraid of your death.

 

I am still running away

from what has been named

too quickly,

devoid of a solemn source

of oblivion.

 

The night dances in me,

the day knocks on the ajar door,

no shadow fits my words,

no heartfelt sin.

 

I wander among memories,

the black sky provokes me

to happiness.

I wanted to fall asleep

in the spite of death,

to be resurrected in the arms

of another father.

 

Please tell me my last dream.

Show me the Earth

that carries our warm, soft steps.

I don't want to die one by one,

I don't want to peek at the Sun

that still has no name.