Angel

a dying angel comes upon me,
tears flow in cristal glass that sprinkle my worn out face,
and I just contemplate his suffering reflected in my soul,
that pain of old that outlasts my life and yours,
that leaves behind nothing else but a dead hope...

that dying angel embraces me, and the tears flow
letting me know that this solitude of mine will ever refuse to go,
and my tears entwine with those of his,
producing within me a desire of everlasting sleep,
a desire for my sins to be vanquished deep within...

that dying angel cries desperately for my sins,
and I crumble just like ashes deep within,
and his tears turn to blood, and I simply embrace him,
for his fate is just like that of mine:
dying deep within...

RQ
Moscow
28.5.11