Читать книгу The Silence of the Spirits - Wilfried N'Sondé - Страница 7

The moon had flowered from my green chrysanthemums

When the wolves secretly recited anathema.

In the lowlands, requiems are the rage.

A weary prayer pronounced like a presage:

Cain today is armed with an axe,

In a cowardly gesture, he has again struck,

He spits out like a vampire his lifeless victim

Then tramples on the rhymes that yesterday I had gathered!

My body goes out beneath his sad smile

To escape mornings that terrify and cause suffering.

Cain today is armed with an axe,

In a cowardly gesture, he has again struck.

My mother had woven my shroud of diamonds

Because injured too often my heart bled a long time!

He spits out like a vampire his lifeless victim

Then tramples on the rhymes that yesterday I had gathered.

SARTRE WILFRIED PARACLET N’SONDÉ