Faded Petals

I have faded petals on a pedestal table, 

May the wind come back to life, opening a case. 

The mane of the night walks its swarms, 

But from the heart the pollen has already flown. 

 

The perfume remains, it fragrances the room

And the folds of the decor where time is camouflaged. 

In golden hangings the light arches

And dart the eyelids of what is bundled up. 

I lay my forehead on unknown bags, 

Incense happily draws its fragrance to the skies

As the candle licks the cart, 

At the corner of a window, hidden by curtains. 

Snowflake wax freezes in the vice. 

The murderous needles puncturing the design. 

Words that we erect the dawn on a trestle, 

At the edge of a branch that will not hold tomorrow. 

And the blaze of the evening going to strike its fuse,

On the cold of a mirror with eternal snows

Where glassy pupils hide to see better, 

The sun which buries it's too rebellious.