White Nights Ix The New Freedom
The plasticity of the new freedom,
The naiveté on your face,
Everything is not a silk skin
On thin legs,
O! you holder of the black thick hair,
Why is your eyes not emitting fire,
Where would the softness of your silks,
Be the hardness of chains.
I kiss life as I drink blood,
I roll on stones and am put to fire,
Your sons had the killing grace,
Of my burning desires destined to nothingness,
Are you a thing?
Truly you are the new freedom
Truly you are the new captivity.