It darkens me in the glass garden,

from the marriage of the rose and the hyacinth

a snowdrop was born.

 

In a barrel of wine

they threw me into space

between the sun and the moon,

silently I reaped the stars.

 

They brought me back alive

to grow old in a greenhouse,

and not to be afraid of bad people,

because I have one dying

and poetry for nine lives.