No one’s busy anymore
Like thunder, moving life
Winter nights
If I see her again then
When the moon will come
with branches and leaves
and twigs on her mouth
She wants to build a nest all for herself
Selfish her….
Where shall I hide myself?
In the golden wings of the vultures,
In the fog of that fear and night
Miles and miles…. Beside the walls
And the breeze, kissed by the kerosene
And bowstrings of the dynamos
Kings….and kings….
Like our marching faith….
Like every night that breathes a thousand more
With the smell of salt, love and alcohol….
And the guava trees…. A single star still lives
Like the blue wine of Nile…..
Red fire, death flowers….
The sky…sky… all around
Tearing off the mornings, the rain….
A strange sound
Old cigarette stories
Bullet marks, older than all crimes
And crimes older than sleep…
The eternal, innocent sleep…
A thousand mornings came
On a thousand wild horses
So many rivers have changed courses….
So many suns have set…
Yet, the lighthouse stands tall, oh….
All my songs….
All my leaves….
Let’s sleep….
The dew and moss on my chest
since the beginning of time
The water never knew me
Never knew… never knew….
Silent storms, silent flames, silent stars
I’m that priest of all the dead stars
You’re the taste of life
and the pain of death in my eyes…
That’s all for peace….
Life-story-smell… beside the lake
And then, for the lost tides of the mist
The Blue… the wings of the sky,
of the kingfishers, of the deepest sorrow….
Someday you stayed on the rivers
When the feathers fell…
when the leaves fell…
when the storm came….
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