Classic Poem

You are the echo when my body calls
tree of abandoned houses
the one who picks for me the words I also pick
at the mention of whose name I lose my words
You are my yearning and my finding out
bride of the soul and instincts
and mother of desires
You are my silent screams and my white mare
that tramples down my night of stars
You carry my sword now in domestic fragments
you who are brighter than the fruit-tree blossom
and stronger than wild fruit
blue lily of pain who laughs and laughs and laughs