translation for fistingchamp

I am afraid. The afternoon is dark and the sadness of the sky is open and obvious, like a mouth of a deceased man.
My heart cries out like a princess lost in the bowels of a deserted palace.



I am afraid. And I am so sad and unimportant that I reflect upon the afternoon without meditating upon it.
(In my sick head, a dream does not fit, just as a star has never fit in the sky.)



However, in my eyes, a question exists, and there is a cry in my mouth that I dare not release.
No ear exists on earth that would hear my sad cry, a cry which has been abandoned in the midst of an infinite land.



The universe dies, of an agonized calm, without the celebration of the sun, or the unripened sunset.
Saturn suffers like my troubled soul,

the Earth is like a black fruit that the heavens devour.



And through the vast emptiness pass the clouds of the evening, blindly, like lost ships, which hide defunct stars in their holds.



And death of the world encompasses my being.




miedosa