I was travelling
in part by the river,
in part by the sea.

Flowers can speak
and beautiful is their language,
their voice.
You can hear them whispering
when silence falls.

But when they wither and die,
they scream
like mothers of children,
taken away from them
to be killed.

When you're a poet,
every Hello is a Goodbye.

When you are a poet,
every day is the last day
of your life.

Autumn leaves
scattered under my feet
like funeral flowers.

Life is a waiting,
don't let yourself wait
in vain.

If rain never comes,
I'll still love her.

If dream ends too fast,
I'll still love her.

If stars fall from the sky
sky above her.

If Love sadly dies,
I'll still love her.

Knowing is death

and only learning how to forget
will let you shed the painful skins
and grow the last one,

which will be made of silent suede.

Oh Silence, where are you?
Will I ever hear you again?
I've been looking for you everywhere
- in vain.

I have been to many churches
and quite a few graveyards too,
but you weren't there anymore.
Where are you?

One day you will come to see me
and you'll  lay your hand on my head.
And I won't have to be jealous again
of people, who became deaf.

The body, a sumptous villain, has parted me,
or perhaps it was me who has detached.
I don't know. I have no taste of good and bad anymore.

But it doesn't matter. It has happened,
we are not the same. We never were.
We have been keeping together only out of fear.

The most important thing is
that I have made my decision: I will stay strong.
It will be hard to go through it all alone. I know.
But the light has to be sheltered
from the slightest gust of air.
Nothing else matters.

I'm a poet,
I have nothing
except words.

I'm a poet,
I don't care about
the world.

Take your money,
take your cars
take your pearls.

I'm a poet,
I don't care about
the world.

Well, yeah, sometimes
I wish I was
someone else.

But I'm a poet,
poets can't escape
their Fate.

Full time poets
don't exist.
In this world
at least.

There is plenty of them
on the other side.
It’s only for us
it seems that they have died.

I can't tell my heart what to do,
it won't listen to me. It will do the opposite.
it will make me look like a fool.

Since the first time I met you, I knew
that we can't be just friends.
But my heart wasn't sad.

And I said to my heart: You are cruel!
and it smiled at me, it smiled at you.
And I looked so helpless that night,
and you looked so beautiful.

My heart knows best, it knows that I love you.
And it knows that I know that it knows.
Brain? Oh, brain. Brain has no say at all.

Angels  and demons
share flats - and beds.

Angels and demons
are the best
- friends.

We try to change it
and make them fight.
We hate the darkness,
we want the light.

They live in peace
they know themselves well.

We are at war
but with ourselves.

My coffee
is never sweet enough.
Even if I put five sugars,
it still tastes awfully.

I once tried ten,
and it didn't work.
I wonder why.

My coffee
is never sweet enough.
I guess that's what happens
when you're fed up with life.

I lost my life when the giant wave
came crashing. I was deep in the sea,
swimming against the current,
trying so hard to break free.
I think that day I broke free.

I still recall this moment, when the water
filled my young body with its warmth.
And then they found it on the shoreline,
cold and stiff. I still see it all.
It was long time ago, but I still see it all.

And they took the white body with them, like sea shell collector
takes home the little conches he'd found in the sand.
And they kept the memory of it for so long,
till they themselves became the memories when they died.
And they kept me tight in the pocket of death, till they died.

Dead man keeps following me
and asking for a spare life.
I wish I had one for myself.
That would be lot of fun.

Dead man keeps following me
and asking for a spare life.
He looks a bit disappointed,
he knows he stalks the wrong guy.

Death
is trying to be fair
at least.

And my kingdom has fallen too,
though I tried hard to save its glory.
All the gods and the goddesses I served
they're upset with me. I'm so sorry.

I could easily raise above the ground,
if I only wanted - I was so strong.
But I've lost again what I had found,
They were right,  and I - I was wrong.

Look at us, we are running away
from the country that used to be our home.
Didn't think I could ever betray
my own land, my own people, my soul.

It's too late to sit and whine,
it's too late to seek any forgiveness.
Too late to turn back the hands of time.
I'm the killer, the victim - and the witness.

I could run, join them and disappear,
leaving cities of ruins behind.
But I'll stay here, that's all I can do
I'll stay here and admit my crime.

And I look every day in the mirror,
telling myself "What have you done?".
But I won't run away like others,
I'll stay here till the day I die.

My torch is switched off
so I could better see
the darkness, for only the darkness
can show me the way
and set me free.

My torch is useless,
I drop it on purpose. I pretend though
that I do it accidentally.
Jus to let my demons believe
that they still follow me.

My torch is dead,
and I am so alive.
I shine and I can't stop shining
with the inner
Light.

Feed your demons,
don't starve them,
but don't stuff them with food too much neither.

Find a balance, keep them satisfied.
That's how they will remain in the line
and obey you.

Love them to some extent.
Never show them
that you hate that they hate you.

We have finally arrived at our destination.
The area was thick with silence.
That was the only difference
from the loud places we have passed through
on our way.
We felt like we have escaped the worldly lives.

When they closed down Heaven,
St Peter lost his job,
you would see him in the queue to Job Center,
you would see him drinking alone.

He was angry with the decision:
- They shut Heaven, why they don't shut Hell?!
Maybe they have work for me down there,
maybe I should go and check.

When he knocked to the Satan's door,
they opened and a man dressed in black
said: My Lord is busy at the moment,
please come back later, or don't come back.

He came back few ours later, knocked again,
and the same strange man opened the gate:
My Lord is still busy, I'm afraid,
can you please come back tomorrow?
-Okay.

So he came back the next day, the door opened
and the same guy appeared before his eyes,
he said: Ah, it's you again, - Well, yes,
you said to come another time.

He said: I want to speak to Satan,
as I'm desperately looking for a job.
He didn't tell him who he was,
but they knew him well in the Kingdom of Gore.

Please, come later - the man said and left,
but St Peter has had enough.
- Oh don't worry you *******,
I'm fed up, I'm not coming back.

When they closed down Heaven,
St Peter lost his job,
you would see him in the queue to Job Center,
you would see him drinking alone.

Peter went off the rails, became an outlaw,
and no one called him Saint anymore,
he hit the bottom, he was a pure evil
killing men for cash and for gold.

And one day he said to himself:
I will try the Hell one more time,
maybe now they will let me in,
when I lost my all inner light.

So he went to meet Holy Satan
one more time and vowed - one last time.
Knocked the door and the same man appeared,
said: Come in, you are welcome now.

The architects
of their own
demise.

Everything around
teaches you how to be happy:
birds, flowers, rain,
even stones.

Yet you say you don't know
how to enjoy your life.

You clearly don't want to know.

Heaven is so close,
but the Hell is always a bit closer.
You have finally quit playing dead,
but the game of life was already over.
Now you are looking for salvation...
You will sooner find a five leaf clover.

I didn't start the war.
I swear it wasn't me!
I was sitting in my bedroom
listening to music and drinking tea.

I have no reason to fight,
to **** or retaliate.
I despise violence.
And I also meditate.

I don't follow the news,
I'd say they rather follow me.
That is my only crime,
that I feel for the killed.

And yes, I cried when I saw
a woman holding her dead child,
her eyes were red from scream
to the silence of the sky.

Yes, I cried when I saw it,
I couldn't stop my tears.
That is my only crime,
that I feel for the killed.

Let it rain to the end of the world,
let it cry until the clouds get dry.
Sometimes we have to let it all go,
sometimes it is the only way out.

Hurricanes and tornadoes around,
thunderballs take the summer by storm.
Let it hit, let it rule - let it die,
that's how our hooray will be born.

There's no place to escape from this hell,
there's no chance to survive - there's no way -
the rain's falling on us, night and day,
or it is something more than the rain?

Heavens they have been crying all month,
maybe over a life someone's lost,
maybe someone has died well too young,
maybe it was something even worse...

Heavens they have been crying it out
all its tears, then its eyes, then its heart.
Sometimes speechless we are when life clouts,
our planet is a house of cards.

On the chair your wet coat, your wet coat,
my wet hat on the table, my hat.
Our old boat is drifting ashore
with the sail by the wind torn away.

But this land meant to be our land
and this weather is us - our part.
Let's unite and let's fight and let's mend
all those sails which have been tore apart.

Let it rain to the end of the world,
let it cry till the tears get dry.
Sometimes we have to let it all go,
sometimes it is the only way out.

Let it do it all over again,
let it hit, let it rule, let it die!
We are scared, we are tattered and torn!
We'll be safe - it's a matter of time.

Let them drink this blood
from the river of your body.

This river is endless,
it's only you who is scared of drowning.

Let them **** the thirst,
don't you know how it feels to be thirsty?

Let them take what it's theirs,
don't be too ****** selfish.

Dead things feed me
fruits of compassion
and unconditional love.

And I spit the fruits out,
not able to swallow.

For it was me who killed them.

I will come back to the place someone else
once used to call home.

My eyes will kiss again the flame-rotten moths -
it will be a pleasure
to see them escaping their unknown fate,
at last.

I will pray to the sun again,
when my time comes. There will be no one pushing us
to the oblivion of tomorrow.

Who promised you tomorrow?
Who promised you today?
Who said that is for certain
you'll take another breath?

Who said that life will get you
everything you deserve?
Who said that death is awful?
And that there is The End?

Who lied about the future,
who lied about the past?
Who made you sad? Who turned you
in  giant made of dust?

I talked with the stars yesterday,
I asked them are they scared to die.
They said that their death is my life.
And then I started to cry.

They asked me why am I being sad.
I said no, these are just tears of joy.
They asked me why am I lying,
like if they knew what I didn't know.

I talked with the stars yesterday,
and I couldn't resist the thought
that I wasn't talking to myself.
But today I know I was.

I love my life - I would lie if I said
I don’t, but then there is a speck of doubt
like rats infesting my life-loving head,
telling me that we live in a slaughterhouse.

Maybe that's truth, but then would my despair
would bring the solace to my fragile mind?
Would I gain more from breeding heartless hate?
Would I see more If I went - by force - blind?

The butcher’s wait is over, he needs blood.
The rats are hungry - their teeth are sharp.
And there is me - small ship dodging the flood

of angry red. There is my broken harp.
There is me singing a life-affirming verse.
And there is Justice of the Universe.

There may be winners amongst losers,
there may be losers amongst winners,
for no one knows what future holds.

You may be fighting death like crazy,
or scream: Please, turn me into dust!!!
What’s better for you - you won’t know.

But do not worry - there is justice
for the unfairness of this world.
Relax and let her do the job.