Idealized Love

That’s how love really is: an afflicted, ill

Truth. A fragile act of poetizing, in which we

Hide, sighing, to scream

Everything that in the chest is felt and undone…


Felt anyways… The fading romances,

The strange needs falling apart.

Cunning, carnal desires… Armed desires

With bullets of the Moon, hurting everyone, from the child to the beast


Strong love; rotten love… From butterflies

To jackals. Wolves… Love of harps

And trumpets


Ah, angelic love. Love from the colorless heavens

Where god hides in his inexistence.

Love that pulsates and burns in the chest. Love.




Soneto, translated with lots of poetic freedom, yet still being incredibly accurate.


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