Sadness

 

Cold icicles sank into the late cherries,
and the brown shadow swing intertwined branches,
in the silence of the roar, the bark cracks,
and trembling hand holds the canopy crown.
Restless curls kiss the evening glass
and lips softly, caressing salty raindrop.

'Do not go, stay',
from the wooden balcony calls the note from the guitar.

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Good bye

 During the tram of the first autumn rain

while the storks are kissing the mountain horizons,
a pigeon will shed its feathers in your garden fountain

And the thousand golden nests will wash the ashes from your lashes
along with the white basin
to your rosebud lips blubber from cooing lullabies

heat to heat, my swirl of feathers
beneath the green canopy of nowhere springs

A lesson from the granddad

On the table of my dark chambers

in the candlelight always rests the note of the wounded partisan.

In this grove

one raindrop cut your net tread, long time ago,

now, my rifle is the law

The lesson from a thief

Maybe you have a castle,

but you don't know, it's under the magician's coat,

says the man on the bench.

It is more pleasant

my wings float on the starry sky

The key ring

Help me,

That the ring cuts those tangled yarn like the diamond sword.

Embrace me,

dulcify the lemon slice on my lips

before I bite the sweet hat of the madman mushroom,

let the sparrow blowout through the shackles like through dark hedge

and spin the leaves into a thousand green butterflies.

Let's bathe naked, shameless, in the milk of iridescent clouds.

Let it be all a lie

Autumn leaves hugged the two of them on the bench,

the edges of her coat rested in her hand clench.

He sought peace in her Indian summer.

He heard her reproaching whisper.

And what we will do now?

Now, when I'm just a rock where you'd sleep the sweetest

in the withered spring of mine nest.

Seduced are, that your lips with some other vanillas,

from long ago my shoulders are not your pillows 

and my leaves rustles do not wake up your gaze glow

Down the melodious golden plasma 

Between his palms shed eternal icicles shine.

A statue which loved

An iceberg on the horizon hid the garden.
I arrived led by swaying translucent blue trail.
My breath fogged engraved roses in the ice,
and the leaves were a mirror to a river above us.

I've found her grey, set in the centre,
that statue, asleep with deep, embedded lines,
covered by the veil of the crescent moon,
her gaze melted the snow.
She hugged the cross with her hands on her chest.

I placed my palms on her attire,
and caressing her arms, whispered,
Trust me, please, one more time.