Quixotic not by choice, nor calling.
Quintessence unpreserved, distilled in blood,
Systematising chaos —
In love, in suffering, in madness
I search for nothing but my own self.
Cannot exhaust within this poison,
Cavernous torment that in speech stays silent.
Thus I become all men —
The cursed fate of the unknown them.
Sip this, my soul, be richer all the more and
Sear my vision with demented flight.
Unspeakable a loss
Unheard in ecstasy of these horizons fallen.
No wings to soar,
Nor waters drowning dry
To hold onto this pain,
To die, forgot.