a poem by Jacob Frederik Horn, English
Vultures flying round my head,
telling me I’d be better off dead.
But I’m dancing beneath the chandelier’s purple light,
on a dark and moonless night.
There is a tree over there.
His branches carry the last leaves.
A forgotten symbol
of my long-gone beliefs.
Give me some glue.
I’ll stick my mind to the ground
next to my heart, so blue,
so they can finally be bound.
Now my head is empty,
and so is my chest.
The chandelier’s purple light,
has found its nest.