Leap years. Thoughts that will never
learn to fly. A chance
that will be reborn as pride
if time so decides.

I recognized you by the taste
of your lips - too sweet to be true.
I know there will come
a time when the eyes will forget
how to cry.

What I will have left of you is a tear
turned into amber,
a silent future, a cursed era.
There will be neither shadow
nor light anymore.

There will be no more silent breath,
suffering word, fog that fawns
on my bare knees.
Tomorrow we will wake up
on the other side of loneliness -
where forests burn,
where freedom becomes torment.

I tried to admit to a life
I did not commit. However, fate,
this incurable hypochondriac,
wanted to sentence me
to a lifetime of memory.

Beyond the barricades of memories,
grace, harnessed to heaven,
echoes back to me; somewhere inside
there are sleepless tears I will never
understand. I can't dream in a way
that would make the earth
kneel before me.

I dare not look in such a way
that the sky departs forever
into the unknown.
Time will forever remain a desert island.

I feel the power of your desire.
I understand the time
that never begins.
The wrong blood is flowing
in me, drowsiness brings
only sadness and resentment.

I slam my eyes shut
behind me, hiding in the light
of a day I've experienced
too soon.

I would like to see in you
my lost era, my eternity,
speaking in an unknown language.

Let me discover
the depths of your lost tear.
Melancholy beats in my heart,
torn from the embrace
of loneliness.

I do not want to associate
you with fertile longing.
I don't know a better past than you.

Let's talk about the silence
that tries to overcome the pain.
Let's try to tame freedom
so that peace
can take its place.

Let's not close
the last window behind us - a body
that is slowly dying
is a great excuse to give up.

I carefully count
your freshest tears - I know they exist
only to quench your longing.
Entrusted to the wrong sky,
I rock in the embrace
of the earth, close to fulfillment.

I don't want to replace
paradise for you - I will return
before the final blow falls
asleep in me.

The fist of your heart leaves
saturated shapes,
thoughts without their own words.
I leave time far behind.
I am leaving an eternity
for which there is no point
in starting another day.

Please, defeat the silence in me
that does not allow me to love.
Free me from faith;
for it I can give my life
into good hands.

Covered with black breath,
I beg for a sip
of the past,
for one poor sip of comfort.

I am so far from dreaming about
a cursed heart. That's how far away
is the star that will be
the last to go out.

The uncertainty of your words
hurts me - even more than thoughts
that are lost in a moment.
Drop by drop, melancholies collide,
freshly conceived, still purple.

I dream of your memories,
I recall sadness that died in silence.
Darkness curses my cry,
the entirety of the sky
finds a mirror in your mind.

I don't hear the sound of the wind
that brings me close to your scent,
your taste, in which I still find myself.

I curse the times in which
I sought salvation.
I agree with the promise that everyone
has their own shadow.

A part of the future will forever
remain at the bottom of tenderness.
The otherness of tomorrow
will only give a few tears
that are too blue.

I will find in you the longing for which
everyone still goes to sleep.
Where do you look for words
to find your thoughts?

Or maybe it's the lack of satisfaction
that makes us disappear
into the distance, fall apart?

I'm coming back, even though light
finds this different horizon.
I am here, although life
sold me at a bargain price.

I see no signes of tears,
I do not know where their shadows
have gone.

I sway on this black wave
of existence, I seek solace
in the scent of hope.

I do not want to look for flaws
of future. There's a wind
blowing inside me
that can't be satisfied with
one maudlin sigh, one lost look.

In love with your past, I am trying
to wake you up from
this long sleep.
I flee from my own loneliness.
I dedicate this farewell to you,
so that you may understand
how much silence is needed to
soothe the sky,
to placate the earth.

The sentence here is unfortunate -
reflections of love
no longer bring remorse.
I slam the door to heaven again.
I open the window to hell.

I try to awaken in myself such a night
that will not be
a preface to tomorrow.
I want to look at you in the mirror
of longing - all tears will bloom
to yield forbidden fruit.

I know.
The silence will be unfathomable
when the ballad falls silent.
Pain will leave us silence,
unprepared for the journey,
at the mercy of the local
conflagration.

Burnt cities.
The horizon robbed of planets.
Before a raw flame of hope
germinates in me - desires will be poor,
even worse nostalgia,
which once descended to hell.

I will create for you a fertile,
still sleepless world;
everything that has been so far
will transform into a crocheted heart,
conceived by
your tired hands.

There will be no more God, nor man.
Not a single scream will survive.
I will not remember the moment
that became a burden insufficient
to betray loneliness.

The last season of the year will pass.
Future will crave the warmth
of the winter sky.

I am falling apart in the cradle
of your naked hands.
My body, nailed to the cross
of heaven, tries to please
silence.

I touch your delicate wrists
subtly, I read the prophecy
and the lost heartbeat
in them.

I approach your vast chest,
I search for the stars on it
that would show me
the way back to love.

My sticky fingers brush
your green words; thoughts
envy their own names.

Covered with a blanket
woven from your dream,
I long to reconcile with my soul,
to regain control of my heart.

Please, kiss my temples, let me
feel the glow
of your broad shadow.
I am not the lie that youth
fights for.

I am returning from beyond the border
of your smile. I am, although
silence complains about
the excess of existence.

I am close enough to sleep to escape
this tachycardia, this too abundant forgetfulness.
Kinship with time makes bells fall silent,
commands unite,
lies harmonize with truth.

I have fallen in love with opposites
so vast that the heavens fall
to their knees, the Earth festers like
a fresh wound.

I bow pitifully at the sight
of your borrowed answers, I delight in
the infinity of sold questions.

Unprepared, yielding to your naked heart,
I collide with the wall
I built to hide my life from myself.
There's a bit of remorse and madness
lurking in your undressed tears;
I pay with sadness for
the right to longing.

Too humble to resurrect fear, I struggle
with your past, with complaints about
your too mundane future.

For many decades, I believed
that selling my heart was worth it.
Without ceremony,
at a bargain price,
to entrust it to better hands.

I believed that the mutual morning
would return with
the first breath.
The first light green tear
will be resurrected under the eyelid -
there is too much loneliness.

It came to light - prayers
will remain unanswered
if anxiety does not find its way,
does not reach
the margin of future.

You dreamed clearly
and to spite my melancholy; I felt
the taste of forbidden words,
the breath of thoughts
that were waiting for
their turn.

You know, I would like to dedicate
to you the remnant of light -
tenderness belongs to
someone else.

Passion? Shame on me
to admit my silence.
Will I find you when one more sip
of life, the last unintentional cry,
has simply faded away?
Will you return to hand me
eternity, again late, again lost?

I'm sorry I lived so short a life.
I'm sorry that my dreams
were filled with sadness and regret.
Forgive me
for always having loved
too indifferently, for my light
still being too faint.

I didn't want to hurt future,
to condemn your dreams to death.
I was born too early to trust
in tears and to renounce silence.

I wanted to love you so much,
but there was still a false
blackness flowing
in my too tight veins.
I didn't understand the warmth
you offered me despite
my coldness and distance.

I'm sorry you waited so long
for my conscience to resurrect
in me, for longing to find its source.
For many years
I extinguished hope in you,
you waited a long time
for me to wake up from
this enslavement.

Don't be angry that I realized
it too late. I believe in the beginning
of the end, in the power
of lost melancholies.

I can clearly hear your dream,
these increasingly bold steps
towards the light.
I feel this faith, turned into stone,
so close to stolen teardrops,
to thoughts sold too hastily.

I try to find in myself
at least one memory that will not belong
to the past, that will only need
a sip of melancholy to burn.

Is a glassy smile and one look
straight from the heart enough?
Or maybe I'm asking too much
for the world to come back
into existence?

Tired of the excess of future,
I try to revive the emerald flame,
smoldering innocently at my wrists;
I will be reborn,
although a prayer of farewell
will not help,
although someone will steal
the kiss you dedicated to me.

Tenderness multiplies in me,
which I will give to you
as a lifelong souvenir.
You will remain the light
I sorely miss, that I am looking for.

Please tell me, is it worth appreciating
the silence
that will eventually replace
you and your crimson breath?

Cured of my iconoclastic longing,
I am falling apart
like a house of cards
built by your whisper.

I am trying to free myself
from last year's sky, but I know
that you are still guarding
my soul.

Locked in my own shadow,
I raise a toast to a happier world.
When the last bell
falls silent, I will renounce
my freedom, I will forget
about loneliness.

An hour will be born
in me that knows neither light
nor penance.
Perhaps one morning
I will understand that victory
is not dedicated to me.

I will open my mouth,
close the window.
I am not afraid of tomorrow's
illusions, of another painless evening.

I was created from air and tears.
I was born from humility,
which is foreign
to this land, to unknown skies.

I do not want to be a dream
that disperses in darkness;
I do not want to remind of existence,
which misses the lie.

With each subsequent vision
I come closer to a universe
that, hastily invented, does not associate
with tenderness,
does not connect with silence.

Please think, before the last tear,
the definitive flame of a smile,
falls asleep in you.
My body, divided into chapters,
becomes an apocalypse,
for which it is worth visiting paradise,
admitting sadness.

I do not want the future
to belong entirely to me.
I do not want the reflections of shadows
to hurt my heart.

I watch your illusions furtively -
I am leaving this place, looking for
another penance.
I will no longer dance as the ballad desires,
as the dream indicates.

I will not become the foundation
for senses.

Glimpses of the wind that carries
your breath into the sleepless distance.
The emotions of the stars -
their rust-colored eyes
no longer see future.

The skies, stripped of their blueness,
are today only sadness,
an uncertain journey to existence.

I dreamed of an omnipresent time -
I meticulously defended nearby bodies,
I pretended that my own heart
was not due to me.

The embryo of humanity stirs within me -
hope fades, loyalty to freedom perishes.
The airiness of longing hides from
me the whisper with which
I dared to adorn my thoughts.

I am too sleepless to be born
without doubt. I raise my own world
from my knees - it is not far from here
to the last heaven.

I am only a favor for which it is worth
shining piously. I would like to create
my own paradise in you.

I found you on the wrong side
of chiaroscuro.
I asked for sleepless raindrops,
so unlike your tears.

I tried to dream the future,
so that the door would remain
open and the window would be barred.

I know that you are
still looking for a way back - dawn
will not compensate you.
Twilight will not give you
forbidden fruits, although your skin
will be rough.

I want to breathe unknown air,
feel a touch so generous
that I will forget the directions
of the world, the amount of tears
I have shed.

You immerse yourself in me,
although I miss my own world so much.
I recognize in you
the tenderness for which I still
talk to the stars,
I am ashamed of the Moon.

I am looking for measured, priceless
illusions
that woke up in your embrace
the day before yesterday.
I need empty meanings to outline
the laws of fate,
the sparkle of useless pedestals.

I close tomorrow's dream wide open -
I open the window
to find an escape route.
In love to limits of the universe,
deceptive like a drop of pain -
I cling to your tenderness, so insignificant
that sky lies at my feet,
I lose the plastic cross somewhere
along the way.

I spread fear, I explain myself to God
with my firstborn words. I am sadness
that no one here is waiting for.

Simplicity and illusion
are replicated in me -
I will saturate the dry soil of your lips
with tears. I remember all time fiercely -
a cry outlines
trajectories of wrong orders.

It is just a pair of mismatched hands.
It is a plea for future that I cannot
reconcile myself with.

With each step I take,
I am closer to the dark light.
Each heartbeat leads me
to the finality.

Conceived without pain,
I am trying to find the lost moment.
Your naked hands roam freely
over my frail body -
hatred is what
the smallest ones desire.

Painfully cursed, today
I end this wicked journey
for something that no one knows.
I have become lost
to the world.

My condescending tears
are too ridiculous to be of any use.
Your spasmodic whisper
tries to tame the night
that consistently plays with the light,
that asks for
a scrap of its own sadness.

Intoxicated with hope,
sold at a bargain price -
I try to overcome life in myself,
to find pain that will teach me
to yearn so that everyone
will envy me.

Unknown cities. Summarized sentences,
none of which exist
as a question. I am here
to awaken the night in you - too far away
to think about reality.

The present? Who thinks about it?
Is this another illusion?
Or maybe the exchange of answers
was too vigorous?

Pray on your conscience - the cloud,
entangled in your dreams, is a prelude
to the apocalypse. I would like to revive
memory, but I know:
a cry chases silence.

I came into existence to draw
the penultimate dawn in you.
I was born amidst desires, none of which
match your gaze.

I delight in the solemn present;
I watch from all sides of the world
this one needle through whose eye
my complaint about
the local wind escapes.

I wanted to get lost in life, but the reserves
of solitude were exhausted,
desire got lost.

Did you know in whose hands
my desolate evenings die?
Do you remember
how painfully
I needed silence, when the crowd
shouted against the sky,
against fruitless hope?

I'm running away from the Earth,
I'm hiding in the attic
of my heart; among the deposits
of dust I find
your fulfilled tears
and my unrequited letters.

I am stuck in longing to the very top
of my soul. I try to erase
fear from a graphomaniac autobiography.
Nostalgia will come back
to draw the stars for you,
to soothe the smile
that is too vast to talk about future.

No one cares about my dawn;
I wake up to find at last
the right hour,
which, within the limits
of patience and forgiveness,
will remain a fulfilled desire.

Will my heart find its way back
to solitude? Will the night be lost
when I admit to
an inappropriate guilt?

Sorry, there is not a single homeless
river lurking nearby.
God does not walk around,
staring at the space at His feet.

The bird of my melancholy
has perched on the border between
life and heaven;
a branch bends, the last boulder
breaks away from the ground.

Air spreads within me, a breath
of freshly renovated sky - I will find
an antidote
to an overly noisy thought.

Sleep will never be
reconciled with night.
Your tears are so uncertain of my lips,
so vast that the soul stops
in mid-question.

What good are the answers if they
are so stereotypical?
What good are people if hope
has settled in the corner
of the mouth?

Or maybe a surfeit of tenderness
makes me dare to love in vain?
Is it fear that prevents you
from living emphatically?

Stars of this evening are silent.
The Moon is noiseless, late for its own
thirtieth birthday.

Tired, ruined mornings,
when your shadow looks at itself
in a broken mirror.
The tree, bending under
the weight of forbidden fruit,
shivers, blown by a foreign breeze.

Lack of sleep -
your happiness
is an excuse. What good is it
that future has lied to me,
when insomnia is so blissful?

Here is another sold tear - its night
is not conducive
to the presence of stars.
I failed at the introduction
to the autobiography.
I got lost in light - the unknown
was heralding;
I got lost in an existence
that still protests, fights to lose.

The touch is shapeless, aimed straight
at the heart. I renounce the last greeting -
I am here to remain you.

Clouds, fawning at the feet,
bring an end to eternity, give hope
to the one who has despaired
of memory.

The night flows in
like a black,
icy, crystalline dream.
The illusion fills every corner
of my mind, every bend of my soul.

I try to open
my eyes,
wake up, but the nightmare
has taken away the last bit
of my free will.

Will reality teach me
to love half-heartedly?
Will the future fall asleep before
the last flame of
a tear falls?

Sadness is everywhere,
we just don't appreciate it.
It is painful to long
for a miracle
that will assuage eternity,
that will satisfy the embers
of the past.

I touch your tears - I know
they are created from purple mist.
I touch thoughts that
have forgotten what words
they belong to.

I feed my conscience carefully -
my familiar sin
belongs to someone else
today.

I cultivate this hurricane
within myself, thanks to which
I open the gate to the vestibule
of paradise.

Destroyed by the future, stripped of
the snares of the universe,
I would like to build within myself
a monument woven from mirages,
overwhelmed by doubt,
stolen from caresses.

Since yesterday
I have not believed in the past;
in the illusions
with which time competes.

Someone broke
the wing of my guardian - was it you
who waited quietly enough
to see that which doubts
repentance?

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.

I have built my own private meaning
with the help of light.
I have decorated sinful thoughts
with words - I wish to dedicate
them to you.

What to choose: closeness of the heart
or distance of the soul?
The experiences are obscure,
defective, unwanted.
I try to find you among
the few heartbeats - you disappear
before eternity is seen.

My crooked conscience, the struggle
for joy - these are just a handful
of coincidences, a few tears
that I have given to the needy.

Don't be too sinful - I have found you,
although another era has passed,
and the light has become
too long a shadow.

I will fall asleep before
you manage to find the right time;
I will perish as long as
I feel the aftertaste of your longing.

You dream fiercely, so that no one
will hold it against you.
You trust, although you know
that your heart will fall silent
at any moment.

A new decalogue is spreading
within you,
according to which you will write
a more beautiful introduction
to this anonymous autobiography.

One day,
your heart will remember you;
we will have the impression
that fear brings us love.

A star has settled on your eyelashes -
green like the first dream
about you, sold to God.
I don't remember the last time
I was so similar to you;
how close your tears, laughter, breath
or heartbeat were to me.

I knew that you were moving
within me, that you were dreaming
and shining,
even though I had renounced the world.

Somewhere at the bottom,
chaos lurks, too ruthless
to cheat freedom.
I fight, although both my hands
are bare.

I live, although life has abandoned
me many times.
The last kiss sparkles within me -
given with premeditation,
so that the sky would bloom,
the earth would awaken.

My first winter thought ends
with a body in which one
can lose oneself.
A heartbeat, a firstborn smile
are unforgettable - everything is an illusion;
its shadow trails behind me
on this poor journey.

I would like to end with a wind
that can carry away wasted tears,
bitten desires,
mismatched silence.

As I follow, I keep an eye out
for fresh traces of tenderness;
too large a dose may prove fatal.
And hatred breeds
as if the Earth were its own.

It boasts of a roadside lie,
a deaf-mute guilt, a sold-out faith.
Your world does not love me -
deceiving life, I give it the name
of loneliness.

I have been abandoned
at the crossroads again - God, will you
remember me when it turns out
that your blood flows in my veins?

Unwritten, endless poems
hurt the most.
Thoughts, barely begun, are associated
with a life that has begun
too hastily.

I am here, close to memories
of future - I do not have the strength
to lift my own shadow,
to deliberately end my sleep.

I am your sleepy doubt, pride -
the stars boast.
Or maybe pity will make hatred
fall silent, shouted over
by the silence?

Would fear make me stronger
than memory?
Solitude deprived of life
is merely a vestibule to the garden,
to the orchard, where apple trees
die in the middle of summer,
forbidden fruit grows.

I stole from you the last morsel
of conscience, a sip of prayer -
painful, infinite.

I will never encounter this irony again,
this light quite unresurrected.

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 wish I could find the lost time
that would lead me
to your used dreams.

I try with all my strength
to feel the indifference
of signposts.

My body, abandoned to fate
in the fifth corner of the clock,
today collides
with next year's illusion,
for which I will not be able
to be reborn.

There is little enough time left
to put a juicy dot
and start another farewell letter.

I will find in you that despised
morning that took away
my deadly future.
Perhaps one evening
I will understand
the power
of your recalcitrant distance.

I will write a poem on your back
that will not scare this year's
tears away.

I am the silence
which prays to your words.

I sense a truth that has no memory
attached to it. Terrified by my own heart,
I try to find the right future for you.

My illusions, filling your victorious time,
today resemble dried tears,
words covered with
a thick layer of dust.

I would like to fall asleep
so that the future would return
my desires. I hide in the fifth corner
of my heart; one day you will fall before
the border of a whisper.

I will experience a fear
that has never been loved in solitude.
I've gotten used to the dream -
it will soon come to an end.

I will reach the threshold of paradise,
if only you will understand I loved too soon.
Thoughts are just giving birth
to words - very poor, ossified
and selfish.

It will turn out that you are an illusion,
hidden beyond the borders
of humanity, under the eyelid of time.

Tell me, is it worth appreciating
the silence that will at some point
replace you and the fog
of your scarlet breath?

Cured of my destructive longing,
I am falling apart
like a house of cards,
built in a whisper.

I am trying to free myself
from last year's sky, but I know
that you are still guarding my soul.

Locked in my own shadow,
I raise a toast
to a happier world.
When the last bell falls silent,
I will relinquish
my freedom and forget about loneliness.

An hour will be born in me
that knows neither light nor penance.
One morning I realized
that victory
was not dedicated to me.

I will open my mouth,
close the window. I am not afraid
of tomorrow's illusions,
of another painless evening.

I made a mistake
in my calculations again,
completing the morning prayer.

My heart,
sentenced to life imprisonment,
today is a seed
on the barren soil
of your hope.

My soul, imprisoned in shackles
of the body, today becomes
a temptation for those
who leave for
the other side of loneliness.

I look around, but I do not see
a helping hand.
The silence that permeates
my existence is associated with
an emptiness that makes it
worth abandoning life.

Once again
I dip my fingers in the shadow
of your heart. Once again
I look at myself in the mirror
of blood.

I would like to familiarize you
with future, but I know
that one day
I will run out of
tenderness, hatred will abandon
the remnants of freedom.

I throw off the ****
of the sky
from my back, I hug the Earth
that does not allow me
to dream,
does not allow me to skip
unnecessary heartbeats.

I try to find the silence that will bring
the ballad
sung by your heart.
I want to get to the very beginning
of the poem, even though
I know that
I don't feel like smiling.

I don't know how many light years
it will take me to find
your tenderness, the wind
that scatters pale memories.

I want to immerse myself
in the abyss of the body, to taste
the moment that glues our torn wings,
seeks existence
where only desire reaches.

Try to feel what's left of your breath,
to understand the pain
that's bothering you again.
I'm crossing out the last sentence,
it's time to start from
the beginning.

The last star will witness
this year's paradise fall.
I am falling apart into missing pieces,
I am suffocating with light.

My thoughts are adapting
to your arms. I am a guardian
with a treacherously broken pulse.

I walked from the nearby wall
to the slammed door,
trying to find a twitch of humanity.

I wandered from the cul-de-sac
to the sleepy window, searching for
a sliver of mercy that would teach me
to daydream and believe in
the presence of time.

Despite another teardrop,
I am getting closer to the world.
Every thought causes me to sink into
balance and hypocrisy.

I am not ready to find
more interesting stigmas
on the body of future - I am not strong
enough to believe in
the existence of fertile hope.

Torn like the suffering sky,
like the placated Earth,
I sway to the rhythm of silent gravity,
I struggle with the reality that stole you
from me, that allowed me to dream.

I do not want the shapeless night
to strip me of your breath,
to appropriate vastness
for which I constantly seek solitude,
I look around for tears
to mitigate my insatiable smile.

I arrange my thoughts
in alphabetical order. I look carefully
at words, as if they were your sigh.

I come, but I know that
the poem's silence is stronger.
I find enough shade within myself
to share my light
with the silent ones.

I am here, although blissful peace
imitates my soul.
My heart does not fit on the world's plan -
I wait for freedom
to dissolve in my blood.

Imprisoned in my own mind,
I want to feel in you a remnant
of the universe,
a bit of forgotten humanity.

The night, freed from the stars,
is now just an excuse.
A protest that is hard
to admit.
Your exhausted kisses shimmer
on the thin skin of your wrists;
twilight is a sentence
from which you cannot escape.

Eternity makes tears sink under
the eyelid of sleep.
No, nothing else matters
except the past that remains to us.

One day I will understand
that sometimes a tear is enough
to start a new autobiography.
My passion
becomes a curse.

This prayer is the infinite embodiment
of tomorrow.
The fire burning in my hands
is no different today
from reality.

The kisses that adorn
my white skin spread everywhere
the dead memory of time.

I float away into the unknown -
your licentious presence,
a shadow of fog, a few inedible
touches await me there.

I remain imprisoned
in my own heart.
I try to close my eyes, but sleep
refuses to obey me.

I dream of being born again
in your longing, in tears
that no one admits to.
The nights that someone
took away from the mornings
are wandering near
my knees.

An eternity that I do not deserve
lurks behind a wall
woven only from faded thoughts.

One day I will understand
that a little solitude
is enough to resurrect love.
Love without memories, love uninitiated.

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 Dark Messiah, lost within
your own heart!
Will you come back
when the final repentance
awakens in me?

Will you find your way back
to loneliness?

My Dark Messiah, tainted by
the pain of the world,
dedicated to the end of humanity!
Do you exist to soothe
the desolate, cursed tears?

I hear your thoughts whisper,
how the tears
collide...
My Dark Messiah,
sentenced to life imprisonment!
Sentenced to failure
that will not give way to silence.

You are familiar with
your own hope.
I am asking you to never look
for the wrong path
again.

Let the roadside
that the lost words traverse
be enough for you.
Clauses which drown in the depths
of too narrow senses,
of distant dreams.

My Dark Messiah, lie down
next to my desire,
let pity unite with your body,
with your shadow-loving heart.

My Dark Messiah, I fall asleep
at the very beginning
of a sentence.
I am reborn, although
my body
is going in a different direction.

I try to understand
the silence
that fills your tears,
the spasmodic cry for victory.

I do not succumb to illusions
that spread at the speed
of light.
I don't fall in love
with words that have no thoughts
of their own.

I would like to free myself
from this autobiography.
My tired, sleepless time
would rather
please my nights -
I know that memories will return,
that they will lead me
to the edge of this land of hatred.

I dream so that you can
free yourself from the shackles
of fear.
I'm having an interesting
conversation with myself.

My Dark Messiah! The lost warrior,
the incurable loner
who is still searching for
a world of his own!
I see glimmers of hope
in your crimson pupils.
I sense a truth that is not associated with
any memory.

Terrified of my own heart,
I try to find the right future
for you.
My illusions that fill
your victorious time,
today resemble only dried tears,
words covered with a thick layer
of dust.

I would like to fall asleep
so that the future will give me back
my desires.
I hide in the fifth corner
of my heart; I know that one day
you will fall before
the border of whispers.

I will experience that fear,
which has never loved in solitude.
I will get used to sleep,
whose insomnia is coming
to an end.

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 try to find the silence
that will bring me the ballad
sung by your heart.

I try to reach the very beginning
of this poem, although I know
that it does not face me
with a smile.

I do not know how many light years
it will take me to find
your tenderness,
the wind that scatters
your pale memories.

I want to immerse myself
in the abyss of your body,
to taste the moment that glues
our torn wings together,
that seeks existence
where only desire can reach.

Try to feel the last of your breath,
to understand the pain
that is bothering you again.

I'm crossing out the last sentence,
it's time to start
from the beginning.
The last star will witness
the fall of this year's paradise.

I fall apart into missing pieces,
I suffocate with light.

I fell in love with the fertility
of your lips.
I have made myself comfortable
in the shape of your hands.

I know how many tears
it takes to build mutual happiness.

I remember how long
I waited for longing to find
its beginning.
You come, all dressed in poems,
you approach my thoughts,
you dedicate
forgotten words to me.

I don't want to look for
the source of loneliness in you -
your heart is woven from
beautiful desires.

I dream of feeling the **** aftertaste
of kisses, I want to find
hands, lost on the path
to nostalgia.

I close my eyes, spread the lips -
a bit of newborn, still green hope
falls inside.
I seek a caress where borders
of purgatory end, where the ardor
of united antipodes
does not die to the spite of future.

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.

These are the moments when a merciful
sleep reveals itself
to a delightful night.

These are the hours when a star,
condemned to the pity
of its own shadow, loves hypocrisy,
delights in a desire that brings
nothing new.

You still wear my body - you forget
how many paths it has taken
to get stuck on this side of loneliness.

I am not a wish
that comes true when we forget.
Is it freedom that makes
a person die
in the middle of a sentence?

Is it sleep, stolen from God,
that makes us like our own tears?
I'm trying to soothe
your fickle heart.
I want to shine, enough so
that distance deprives me
of faith in heaven.

Quite by accident I encountered
your touch, it is still too immature
for me to regain a lost whisper,
to cry out a prayer.

My tears are frozen. Even sadder
words that no one deserves.

I do not judge future by present.
I do not accuse the truth
when the lie is so distant,
so identical.

The heart, so frightened by sky,
still running away from sleep,
is only a naive stray,
a loser, for whom it is not worth
paying with a premature look
straight in the face.

I waited, I found the scent
of warmest thoughts in you,
I released my desire - to satiate
with tears; a definitive kiss,
left on a nearby path.

Cursed by the air, deprived of
the right to my own sadness,
I encounter on your body
a trail so endless
that banners disappear,
death turns into nothing.

It's just a sad look into the distance,
an entrustment to space and time.

I'm setting out on a journey,
even though the scarlet stars
are not in my favor.

I follow the light on your temple,
ready to dress in glory,
to become familiar
with eternity.

I omit the crumbs of passion,
I part with the closeness
I so ardently desire.

The Dark Messiah, I visit your
vanished horizon, I fall at the feet
of your heart.
Will you give me a handful of mist,
so that the mundane farewell
will stop bothering me?

On the beads of tears that I count down
the days I miss and look for.

Lend me a little truth -
let the future become a pretext
for returning.

It is only a petrified hope,
nothing more.
It's just one unfinished breath.