translated by Holly Taylor


My sweet darkness
of a fractured, abandoned

I want to ascend your carriage.
Darkness dragging through my fingertips
along with the pain and trials
that have ripped
yes, have mangled
my designs.

At the station of defeat
black coffee and a biscuit
are sufficient to mourn.

What remains
of you, my melancholy
little train

No whisper, no caress
will be given.
For you, I will
be the final,
only passenger
that will grieve.


      The Land of Paradoxical Things, To Kendri editions, 2014