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?

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 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.

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 made a mistake by giving you
my loneliness. I didn't want to love
in such a way that insomnia
would become yours too.

Incarnate longing, come back
before I discover in you the immensity
of the purple star, of bottomless dreams,
of the yearly melancholy.

I cover myself with you
as if with my first breath, I hear your
whisper, so similar to the rustle
of firstborn tears. I close the window
behind me, I look for a world
too distant for my heart
to beat unimpeded.

I am trying to fly above borders
of the hills, above barricades
of light - so that the last flaw in me dies,
so that time, given to melancholy,
in incompatible words, awakens.

I would like to feed myself with
your distance, but I know that my body
cannot boast of touch.
I have overcome this night.
I will free myself from the stars.

Darkness is so close!
The night peeks around the corner,
black as the cup
of coffee
I usually drink at midnight.

Autumn? Before it returns,
I will be able to calm
prophetic dreams, to trap
the wind
that seizes life
with an icy, almost dead hand.

I want to see in you
a signpost that will reveal to me
the solution to this mystery.
My time loves
the needles of still young stars,
delights in the rain
that allows it to satisfy
its need for fear.

Why is there so much
sadness in your future?
Will I find a body
that was deliberately stolen?

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.

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?

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.

I hear the whisper of newborn thoughts.
I hear your words
touching chords of my loneliness.
With blossoming fingers
I comb desires,
so similar to ripe ears of rye
that will soon yield a harvest
in the form of faith, hope and passion.

I look at myself in the cracked mirror
of my gaze again - I enjoy the depths
of sea waves, emeralds
so painfully bottomless
that I lose control over my heartbeat.

My sleepless lips meet a kiss - a touch
so imprudent that the last stars
fall silent, the northern sky
kneels in mid-sentence,
the dawn tactfully turns its face away.

I do not want to admire you through
the cloudy glass of everyday life;
I demand all your senses,
the freshness of the first spring rain,
days never seen before,
a passion so fervent that the Sun
loses its shadow
and the night forgets to turn off the light.

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 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.

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.

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.

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.

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 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 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.

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?

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.

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.

The Dark Messiah, I bring you
the Sun on a silver plater
of conscience, hungry for hope.
I give you back the tenderness,
fertility and freedom
that you constantly pursue.

I am not the same word
that escaped from your lips.
I do not associate myself
with the thought that wounds
the thin skin of the mind.

The Dark Messiah, take off
these shackles from yourself,
throw off the thorny shadow
from your back.
I will dance so that you will hear
about my existence.

I will fall in love with you
so much that all people will doubt
the proximity of heaven.
Distracted, enslaved by a glass dream,
I delight in the journey
of your hands on the map
of my body.

The Dark Messiah, I have found enough
truth in myself to resurrect
the overpopulated lie.

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 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.

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.

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 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.

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.

I'm delving into reality that will never
belong to us. I wrap myself
in the black fur of the night
to understand
how long someone
has to wait to renounce hope.

You come closer to me, I hear
the persistent whisper of your body.
I embrace dreams,
I enjoy the taste of thoughts.

Sewn to the breast of heaven,
I want to prove
to you that silence
is braver than a scream.

My heart is withering in me. Future
I didn't deserve is coming to an end.
Kiss me in remembrance.
Dress up my frozen heart.

Taken in by this desolate,
overworked planet,
I am in love with your sunrise.
The hour of resurrection
in me will be an introduction
to the past.

Light will not save me,
I will not free
myself from silence. Kiss me
the penultimate time, give me the touch
from which the bravest run away.

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'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.