They always came together to listen to her
as if from the lips of her soul,
she kissed the words of peace
It is my Flower of poetry
who leads the daily protest
The blessed crowds
bring their flowers
to season the day
with joy sprinkled
It is the season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk
where people surround the Flower, my dear one
and the blessed are kissed with new news of freedom
a season for reason, for progress, a word, but
was the last to speak,
the last to kiss the crowd when
the flowers were no longer in season
and a winter hail of bullets reigned
A word in the air was lost in a breeze in the
season when the flowers explode on the sidewalk,
yet its spices are still back in the open fields
pain obscures an unstable sun
and the flowers are covered in blood.
— Rasmus K. Robot
Let the night be a snapshot for
the joy of the day after, Damsels
wending to endings, but then
Analía is missing
off the trail of Santa, but
things are found.
Snapshot of a girl’s things:
purple scarf in the ice
blood, a shoe, an axe
and a herring;
slay marks elicit
Sanguine ice crystals lay in
a few clues of struggle.
Meteor showers streak
like lines of hope in the sky.
At the Lodge, Analía
is found safe and
laughing with Santa.
There are many gifts except
a girl with a purple scarf
is missing a celebration
A moment in the snow
bleeds out in a slurry
of red slush upon a snowbank.
The night is frozen in a moment.
Vignettes of death and joy.
I’d have thanked a sunny day
if rain had not befallen a road,
if the rain hadn’t become beautiful
as if she herself had been the rain
and then if the rain had not distracted me,
if hallucinations hadn’t paused and caused:
a vision of a bird on a porch, then I’d have
praised a sunny empty day, but the patter
seemed like an omen, and
I knew I had to take an exit ramp
to visit her ranch with a porch.
In praise of rain, and reigning shelter
you cared for me,
and a sick bird there
still wet, yet I
will not thank a sunny day, but
I’ll love all the chirps and songs of you
in the reigning beauty of rain.
Laten we beloven te blijven bestaan
de liefde-renaissance in vers begaan
omdat er een kunstwerk is om te delen
Let us promise to last
the love renaissance committed in fresh
because there is a work of art to share
അവന്റെ ടാങ്കിന് പൂക്കളുമായി
സൈനികൻ ലിഡ് തുറക്കുന്നു.
സന്തോഷം പൊട്ടിത്തെറിക്കുന്നു, ഒപ്പം
അവന്റെ കണ്പോളകൾ കാണാൻ ഉയർത്തുന്നു.
സമാധാനം ഉണർത്തുന്നതായി കാണാം.
Flowers to his tank
The soldier opens the lid.
On the beach with the sun
Happiness erupts, and
His eyelids are raised to see.
Peace is seen as awakening.