The Sea

Ask the sea whatever you have to ask

For the sea knows all the stories

The word-webbed days, pale green nights –

arose, from the womb of the sea, like time, like mist,

like stars, like you and me….

The sea is a weaver, the sea…. The old mother

Her womb smells of the dust of history….

Make love to the sea when the pain makes you mad

For the sea is that sad lover who haunts the broken relics

of our dreams

For the moonlit sands pine with desire for those timeless waves

when a thousand violins set the days and nights on fire

Enter the sea…. Let the sea enter you

And bear the child of tomorrow for her…for him….

The child of love and sea….

Whose breath smells of salt, and eyes

glisten with all the radiance of four million new-born Suns….

And when the twilit evening makes you sad and lonely

Go to the sea….

Sit beside the sea….

The sea is lonely as well

And the sea is blind

She can not see the twilight,

Though she can paint it for you

Tears.... Idle tears….

Her crimson breasts

Harpstrings…. Playing the music of

Eurydice-evening….Life! Holy life! Tender life….Morose life….

Go to the sea and confess your Raphael-petals and

drunk imageries

For the sea forgets…..

The sky forgets….

Abandoned ships, abandoned birds…..

Eternal clouds……

Sink….Sink….Sink…

Evening approaches….