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.