I am cold.
My room without your body
Is a temple without gods,
Without bells,
Without garlands.
An ice dragon
Wanders down my back.
The red color turns gray.
The tree,
The boat,
The bridge,
Everything inside me is dying.
Everything becomes cloudy,
Everything is dirty,
Everything is snow.
Inside the pond
That is my chest,
A fish sighs,
With a breath empty of life,
With the cold of despair,
Everything hurts me,
Everything is inert.
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