Friday

Along the trail, an image have you gathered – the crumbs of memory, an endless day? The grasses, they are women, it is Friday, your laughter, once again, is blessed away. Each pain right here stems from the conception that brought a day the world can laugh its load – away from Saturdays and their…

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4:30 a.m.

So early still, at half past four a.m., she wakes up in my arms and rises slowly, to touch me stretches out a quiet hand, and opening the window, stands to watch me. So early still, at half past four a.m., she searches for the sunrise in the distance, but doesn’t know it yet, that…

Nocturne

She always enters on her own, arrives on days of cloudless lightness. The jug of water fills alone and her initials in the sky keeps writing. She washes all the old regrets and does the ironing with patience. In forecasts quiet weather is expected when quiet times with her begin descending. And it will always…

A Fountain in the Rain

Rain is splashing blue droplets and waving ropes of moisture all over the ground. Clear water pours into the pavements, the cemented pails of this town. And the square is suddenly empty – running inside is the plan to embrace. Just the rain and the fountain remaining, which had always stood there, in its place.…

Conversation

You asked if I was here still. You asked me, but I didn’t know. A shedding sound of evening spilled and down your tired shoulder rolled. What melody I heard before it plummeted into the place where sky and water meet the shore and merging, bitterly embrace… And I remembered just your laugh, too soon…

Autumn

Afflicted with autumn, the trees begin weeping, repenting by shedding their leaves in the distance, confessing their summer freneticalism, their sunshine-deficient character weakness. Perhaps the aching will continue still and gutters, ice-cemented, will pound the frozen window panes until the hands of spring would let them enter. And each following autumn chases you down the…

Your Life Is Also Mine

Fading sound of guitars, skies colder above. Left behind us, how many songs! Two last cigarettes, coffee still in the cups. On the road home, you are always alone. Every past has expired, every dream slowly burnt. I am tired. Is there no one who can stand beside me and tell me, without saying a…

Premonition

A hundred years from now this street will be unchanged again – the flowerpots, the pavement, and the seven ancient chestnuts. Each morning trolley bells will wake the houses with the same refrain, and birds in trees will sing their concerts, festively. A happy woman will appear on the balcony, the fragrant smell of ironing…

A Warm Welcome

One octave full of silence plays. One mellow April afternoon. I hear the early bees, and they speak of the summer coming soon – upon the hour when the light begins to swarm, its breathing heavy, and winter painfully resides along the tips of grassy meadows. The barking of a dog. The sigh of blossoms…

Dual Citizenship

The country of the other life unfolds, invisibly and quietly existing across nine ocean laps of swimming distance and through one more – a bridge to the untold. To find it takes you centuries. Or mute, a moment on your knees is long enough. Words there derive from just one verb, “to love” and only…