When will the deathOf Death ever come?from "The Siege

Let them shoot us in the head,My blood will grow rootsand will blossom.

SOWING LIGHTNINGSeizeBolts of lightning from the skyAnd plant them in fields of life.They will grow like tender sprouts of fire.Charge somber thoughtsWith unexpected flash,You, my lightning in the soil!

TIMETimeAnd how it slips through my fingersWithout putting its ring on them,And I remain simply its lover

The forest has shrunkAnd fear has expanded,The forests have dwindled,There are less animals now, less courage and less lightning, less beauty and the moon lies bare, deflowered by force and then abandoned.

SECOND SUNSo much bloodHas been spent in this world,But we have not yet built a sun of blood.Listen, my friend,To these trembling words:A second sun will be born of our blood in the form of a heart.

It rainsAnd rainsAnd rains.But there is a sky above the rain,Nothing can rot the sky.Earth has turned to mud. What of it?The heart of the planet is made of fire, of ardent sun.(from "A Rainy Day")

BLOODY LIPSThe bloody woundOf the gladiatorGurgles out life's end.The cries of acclimations from the standsFill the sky with raging tigers.Waving their arms about to incite the massesThe aging notables add an air of dignity to the arena.Making their separate entriestheyKNEELover the still-warm corpsesOf the young. Their withered lips they poseUpon the fresh flowing woundsAnd, to prolong their lives – so they believe,Suck, ravenously suck out the blood, blood, blood.Fresh blood from the sunFlowing into filthy veinsAs into sewage pipes,And thus the Heart of the Nation is abandoned.

Innocent droplets of rainMake almost all events Quite natural.(from "A Rainy Day")

ABYSSOur country livesAmong the deadAnd dies among the livingSometimes.

Only with a leafcan I talk of the forest,

THE CURSEMay they neverReturn home at night...May you have no part of eventide,May you have no room of your own,Nor road, nor return.May your days be all exactly the same,Five Fridays in a row,Always an unlucky Tuesday,No Sunday,May you have no more little worries,Tears or inspiration,For you yourself are the greatest worry on earth:Prisoner!

IN OUR CELLSThey keep us in our cellsFor a long time...And, if we get out,We lug them with us on our shoulders,Like a porter with a chest of goods.

Handcuffs weigh much more than gravestones.(from "Gratitude")