The white peacock

I’ve washed in the heaven’s river, and
It removed all colors so,
the light may see me gallant and
unique amidst the birds.

The open tail,
The white fan
At each feather a wish.

Promptly the night falls and strains,
The drops of tusch are rolling,
in the hatch beside the road.

The couple kisses under the shade of wild chestnut,
I’m confused between day and night,
Proud with the shame,
sealed in my legs.

No song neither singing,
only sobbing.