I stand on the shore of future.
I wait for sleep
to open up one more night for me.

I am not one of those shadows
that still seek their owner;
I am not like the wind that carries
the early spring smile
of the sun into a brighter space.

I begged too humbly
for a starry tear -
for a chance so refreshing
that love infects me, longing tickles
my calves.

I trusted too hastily the decade
when my last hour left me.
Are you the same word
that clung to lips too lonely to be true?

I stagger, although my feet -
worn in several places -
know perfectly well the cold paths
that lead beyond the gates
of annihilation.

I close my eyelids, spread my lips
so that a little scream can get through.
I do not want my thoughts
to collide with the wall.

I do not want the fog to stifle fear,
to make a whisper. It is impossible
for a body to fit into
a naked, cruelly frozen hand.

I am not mistaken. Your thought,
painfully broken, manifests itself
as a reprimand,
but too harsh to feel warmth.

A word, begun in a surge of helplessness,
becomes a spell - it depends
on which path my body chooses.

I am unable to live until kisses
stand at attention, until understatement
directs tenderness.

No, I have discovered once again
how many paths
it takes to lose death.
I do not hear the creaking
of your hands on the verge of innocence.

I do not feel your lips
sinking into a lie - too sterile for me
to give it a beginning.
I still argue with the signposts,
I do not believe in the transference
of light into darkness.

By accident I gave my life away -
fear appeared, an illusion so multi-angular
that I surrender to this role,
although I am a miserable hypocrite.

I will remove the last of sadness
from my lips for you.
For you I will saturate closeness,
I will please perdition.

The joy I dreamed of in the future
is reborn within me.
I feel fear coming back,
full of kind tears,
weighed down
by the purple **** of the sky.

Your senses, imprisoned in a cage
of illusions, today are only a complaint,
a doubt that cannot exist
on its own.

Evenings are delightful,
when the shadowy hand of night
combs your fair hair
with its fingers,
when kisses are so frail
that it is not difficult to rise again.

I'm dreaming about time again,
stripped of eternity.
I want the first heartbeat
to be yours alone.
Are you close enough for me
to understand that
I am smiling unnecessarily?

Find the key to loneliness
within yourself.
Get rid of the wind that has fallen
in love with your thoughts.
Is it enough to love
for the world to be resurrected?

I try to taste your warmth.
I want to understand
the silence
that fills your outstretched heart.

I know that the world
is close to
my desires.
I remember that the tenderness
returns when we talk about
tomorrow again.

The peace that only your passion
could give me spreads within me.
I am so close to your emotions,
I feel the sweet balast
of your words,
unnecessarily whispered.

I hide my face behind a curtain
of tears, anticipating the return
of the present.
Come, melancholy, find in me
the way back to the world.

Introduce me to the sky
that until now was exclusively yours.
I love your illusions, I appreciate
the hallucinations
behind which no hint of sadness,
no moment of freedom lurks.

The tenderness of your sad hands
seals my fear.
The proximity of sleep
makes me want to walk away
to the other side of the shadow.

I am so close to your desires
that silence boasts of its existence.
I do not want you
to fall in love
with my pregnant tears - introduce me
to the era for which
I would rather stay here.

My sky falls asleep
in your sunny embrace,
corporeality becomes a naive dream.
Sometimes I would like to open
my heart and get out of
this hermitage, but I know
that no horizon
will bear my weight.

It is only a tear focused on itself.
A shard of pain
that fills the emptiness in my soul.
My heart blooms in me,
soon it will bear forbidden fruit.

I remain susceptible to kisses,
to exquisite meetings of bodies.
I'm enjoying
the uncertainty here.

I have lost the continuation
of this too naive storm.
I have sunk into
a madness
that no one understands
except the suffering.

My hands, bound by
the petrified air,
can await the coming tomorrow,
smiles that do not match reality.

There's a hole growing
inside me
that doesn't lead to any light
at the end of the tunnel.

Stripped of your kisses, robbed of
the fertile caresses
of the wind,
I willingly clash with your senses,
with enslaved memories
for which I could go into
the unknown.

Come to me, my charming silence,
prove that my soul
belongs to someone else.
I am choking on an hour, thoughtlessly
conceived at the wrong time.

I fight with the longing
that belongs to
my loneliness.
I cannot dream too gladly.
Incarnate hope clings
to the too low ceiling
of the moon.
I have an excuse to be born again.

The night, sealed by your silent cry
for solitude, disintegrates into
missing elements.

The day, which has come as usual
at the wrong time,
does not fit into the sky here,
it clashes with
the hard-to-digest hour.

I count your sins, even though
I know that future
will find your lost destiny.

Your thoughts are pure,
and your desires are even more beautiful,
which I try to fulfill despite
the black roads that fawn on
worn feet.

I do not understand the shouting
of the crowd, I do not remember
who showed me the way back.

My tears, although white, empty
and long overgrown,
today carve a broken lifeline.
I seek inspiration
among your memories,
I long for hope that shimmers
in the green abyss of your gaze.

I do not want my longing
to disturb anyone.
I refuse to let tomorrow evening
consume me.