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.

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 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.

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 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.

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 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'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 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 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.

No. I do not see you.
I hear you, my most precious drowsiness.
I know you are drawing near,
that I fall to my knees—everything
was born too recklessly.

I cry out, yet no one understands
my solitude.
Our shadows collide, our gazes
find one another—
which of these colors
embodies your faith?

I wait, my heart
denies its hope.
Perhaps you will return, perhaps not—
I will raise the sky for you,
so you might trust the existence of the earth.

I strip away the remnants of passion.
Perhaps I will find someone
who will scatter my longings.
Cruelly aches
each step backward—before I sleep,
I will show you the future,
nestled in my heart.

Perhaps I shall kindle the light wrongly,
perhaps I will discover that
which we so awkwardly call happiness.

Sorrow tangled itself in my hair,
a tear seeped into my heart.
Dust settled on the shallows,
the body awoke.

I became a prelude
to an ancient parable, where even candles fade,
and the journey draws
to its close.

I gaze upon my fear, reflected
in a teaspoon—
the future turns to pride,
too lush
to put an end to hatred.

Your shadow frolics within me—
the presence of tomorrow soothes uncertainty.
I am too last-year
to feed time with silence,
to appease its call.

My fate suffers from a lack of ovations.
Anger shifts into a smile,
so easily turned to disappointment.

I hide on the margins of eternity—
I know the immortals vanished
long ago.
I trust the sky too deeply,
forgetting about death.
Is it laughter, or is it tears—who can tell?

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.

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.