Thirsty Orchids in Black Eve

Swollen thorns clawing the melancholy night from tired storms

Dark shadows embrace the whisper for the ashes

in the arts of desire lost in the silence of her

mourning

How many lustrum can contemplate the path of

sorrow

the cold wind crawl the thick mist of crisp yarn

and her woe at the pallium of the night snatch

the dim poems dispersed as Hinnom's delirium

the dying pain of arid eyes wrap the dainty promise

caven in the crestfalien tono of autumnal foliage.

¡Oh! Asperous taciturn wind disseminated into the ignorant drawsiness of the lividness withered.

The vividness of delicate umbelliferae scalter

the bitter gospel on ebony cup for the grief meadows.

Thirsty orchids drinking the fertility of the seed

and the oath at the cypress drapes the spirit

of fruit bud to mirtle and the seed shall be the

groan grieved like the pestum's roses in the dark

yearning.