Oh …
Oh …
With this terrible
Suffering
Which burns me …
I can not think
Of anything else …
Angels-thougts
Going captive
In a smile …
Yes!
Deceiver,
But so well …
So almost near me
No one can be …
Your skin
smelling of dates …
Your lips
Biting my speech,
So hardly
And near
Anyone can be.
In one day
long gone away ,
you`ll ask me
where is my name, „the most beautiful,between
the floating waters”?…
I`ll hold you
by the hand
at every sunset,
with every sunrise
I`ll kiss your lips:
„you the most beautiful
of wings to fly
in me.”
from the white marble
under the floating
temple
of one Praxiteles …
becoming frozen
by the blue seconds
of becoming…
I am offensive
to a kiss …
the former embracing
the sunset
with the endless
string of bodies
along the marathon …
the latter figure
keeping in view
your silhouette
sweet impression.