As well as the writer’s balcony
Dressed in the ruins of summer,
Autumn slides,
Crowding at the edges of wakefulness.
The still undiscovered adventure,
Sadness being beautiful.

Dreams whisper softly,
Stars fall like tears,
Hearts beat wildly,
Love conquers fears,
Hope blooms eternal,
Time heals scars,
Forever ours.

I run in the rain,
not seeing where I go,
The wind twists my hair and laughing,
takes my strength.
But I'm not afraid,
because I know –Even the rain teaches to love the skies.

Oh Lord,
how few normal people there are in this world!
Only me and my imaginary friends.

About an abandoned city,
where the wind is the only inhabitant,
knocking on windows and singing
through the empty streets.

We are locked within ourselves
and searching for keys we’ve long since lost.
But when we find them,
will we still remember
what we wanted to open?

Only light will remain.
Only light.
And we will forget the words.

And then the night comes –
she smells of fog
and secrets,
with stars looking down from above
and remaining silent.

We are but sand upon the waves,
sliding slowly until the night arrives.
But every step we take together
leaves footprints that can live for centuries.

Sunbeams through the window are like childhood memories—
Warm, vivid, and simply true.
And they never leave me, even when I’ve forgotten.

Transform my sorrow into gold,
For in the furnace of despair,
Life redefines its purpose,
Crafting beauty from the broken.

This jar is different – each shard and crack tells the story of me.
I slowly piece myself together
Carefully choosing each fragment
Each break
That highlights what I have experienced and endured
Each fragile piece reminds me
That the greatest beauty is not in the unbroken
But in the mended
This is my new jar
My restored essence
In which light flows and reflects all
That I have become.

Sorrow stifles me
Like a song that doesn’t resonate in my heart.

Like a dream that remains unfulfilled,
Like the sun that does not warm me.

Loneliness smells like plums
From grandmother's garden

Autumn morning
Old man hands picking apples
A woman hangs out laundry in the sun
I feel the wind touching the leaves
The bird flies across the field
Memories are born in a person
The story of a long road

I lost my shadow
In the city’s reflection

My past became a willow
That grew up to the moon

Colour is dangerous;
you fall into it.

And colour can swallow you,
and like music it is super emotional.

It is hard to stay distant.

I long to be silent in silence,
so that a magnolia tree may bloom in my mind,
warmed by the hands of God.

Your heart is your best compass.

I will caress you the same way
how to caress me
amniotic fluid sea

There is nothing easier
than to complicate everything!

Difficult is the first meeting
When nothing to say
And the last
When everything is said

With rusty nail
I scratch in your hand
Love words.
Tonight our love
Birth through your scars.

Men with difficulty forgive and forget quickly.
Women easily forgive, but never forget.

It may take only a few seconds
to hurt someone that you love
but it may take a lot of years
to heal this pain.

In childhood we want
something we grow up faster
but when we are grown up
we again long for childhood.

If Love is a disease
then I'm very sick
but incredibly happy....

You are like rain
So unpredictable
So refreshing
So sometimes ruthless
So gentle
So renascent
You come and go
And come back again
And leave me invisible traces

I run into the melody.

the crimson sounds hug me.

i ever struck a still place.

it was a singing rose.