Stateless
and full of longing I’d like to die
but
from so much death I have no more place –
from
a universe in flames the darkness flows
in
the safe haven of the heart the mimickings
of
the inner whispers you cannot listen to them
until
the end, when you’re getting closer to your
last
voices it’s like self-destruction in the sphere
without
centre, without circumference at the infinite
speed
from the centre to the limits and from the limits
to
the centre at the same time –, a state of saintliness
anointed
by the mercy from beyond the sphere
and
there is neither the one nor the other one:
the
existence suddenly breaks into pieces against
all
the moments, from your blood emanates
the
fragrance of the stateless naught full of longing –,
adieu,
darling, adieu dulcissima mater. Nonetheless
does
anyone answer by any chance in the nostalgic
suspicion
of other worlds? And the man doesn’t want
this,
overtly doesn’t want this.
