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.

.

ML

.

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

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