Poezja

In the valley of death 
one more guest arrives. 
By my sleep, there is a soul search. 
 
Take off the lid from silence. 
Unlach the door. 
The wounded sun was coming. 
 
Be my grief to wash the eyes. 
Unclench my fist. 
I want to write the name of fallen god. 
 
Inhale the sulphur and 
draw the moon. 
Night was coming to take revenge. 
 
An obituary will glorify 
the asylum. 
An alien will enter the skin.