The singing
Of Nightingales
Needs no
To translation

Patience
Is a gift to you
For your joy

When is
not much use to me
when
I used to be such
fabulous company and
who can compete with
what used to be complete?

I have a half life
like an isotope with
no hope for recovery,

I used to be
irreplaceable
now they use me for
spare parts

I tried to tell myself again,
but sometime along the way, I stuttered.
The words seemed scrambled
and I'm not sure if I heard what was uttered.
It's not really a big deal though.
I've been lying to myself so much
That I'm surprised I still notice.
I try to listen to what I touch.
The echos are still fading,
But never quite disappear.
Do they find it distasteful?
Yes i believe they are sincere.
In my dream I walked so far
That my lies could not travel with me.
Such a heavy burden had been lifted,
But realty had no such mercy.

Sylvie, I am alone here
doing nothing, except
thinking about you,
in a meditative trance.

It's a beautiful feeling Sylvie
strange, I don't miss you,even!
I imagine you as an awakening  flower
of changing colors and petals
You are in a whirl of realization.

Then a lone tree you are,
near a vast,waveless  lake
what an intriguing  koan,
to churn my inner sea.

You're nowa drifting white cloud
all through the kaleidoscopic shifts
I forget to think,what would I be
in relation with your whims,spectacular


Beyond apparitions, I search for  meaning
that  eludes, as it is fathomless

I hear the song of the lonely star, so near
and realize,"I am the light of the burning star"

Sylvie, I can't remember
neither you nor me exactly
or the distant star that sings
a song in the tunes of light years


You were from the forest, Sylvie
I used to be the mountain wind
that once caressed the forest trees.
Sylvie, we are one; the imagination
of the waves of light, beyond time.

The world to me a heaven is
Its resplendent joys therein I seek
One kingdom drenched in bliss
A sanctuary for spirits meek
Natures triumph is a wonder
Mortal ears rapt by her thunder

You are  the  last  one I  should kiss.
Albeit,  life can disapprovingly  walk  ahead,
And times  may  ruefully  run  amiss.
Exhausted  and weak,
Our  hands  will  slip away;
While  the dust  from  my  brow,
Will  make your  temples  sway.
The  terrible travesty  of  our  lips.
You are the last one I should kiss.

When you close  your  light,
Against  the  thick  tirelessness 
 Of  the  night ;
I  feign,  
I  pretend I  might,
Give up my  world,
To  simply  hold you tight.
Against  the  tempestuous glee  
Of  my  heart,
You and I, are nothing  but  art.
It  would be too  painful  to  miss,
This last chance,
Of our kiss.

Afar you live,
Impenetrable  in the naivety  of  distance,
Miles  separate,
Souls that  unite at  an  instance.
I  am  too afraid,
To show you  my  love.
My insides  are  trembling  cold,
Resembling  a featherless dove.
Yet,
Nothing  can parallel  the warmth,
And the  stubborn  bliss,
Of  the  last  one,
I should kiss.

With lighthearted words,
I  wind up my  thought.
Too many  battles
I  have ceaselessly  fought.
But  in your  smile,  
Victory  is mine.
My head tilts  against  my  shoulder,
In a frivolous  incline.
Oh what  a day  dream!  
What  an  impossible desire  it  is!
That you be the last one I should kiss.

Being successful
Is like a mismatched puzzle
Without happiness