As if he committed suicide
The afternoon doesn’t pass… nor does it pass
As if he committed suicide
The sky is close to his leg
And the bees walk in the advancing blood
The volcano is born between the dewdrops.
And the voice is black
I knew that lightning would come
So that I could see a voice on the stone of darkness.
And the voice is black
I was in the midst of the wedding
The planes pass by my wedding. I wrote.
My beloved is coal
– I wrote – And I knew that lightning would come.
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