Walking on a long smooth road
in daylight, with a mirror in my hand
stretched in front of my dreamy eyes
only backwards I see, but walk ahead.

Days and days, I go on walking
with a mirror in my hands, holding
sometimes closer and mostly far
Observing the details behind.

Closing the eyes, I turn around
and start walking back again
pacing to the past, future behind me
I realise, only the moment is the reality.

A dawn, sets upon us,
while notes fly softly
through the humid air.
A language which knows
without words.
Music
the echo of piano
lightens the night
when every feeling
becomes freedom.
Music
the harmony of life
sets its wings
around your soul,
capturing the sorrows,
pouring emotions,
talking the language
of understanding.

Rain is flowing down the walls,
dripping on the marble stairs,
making music of the night echo,
the clouds fill the sky windows
soft curtains covering the world.

Clear mist is passing on the river,
hovering in the quiet moment,
coldness of the air caresses mildly
a space between the nature' s lungs,
the eyes of the universe are open.

Deep harmony penetrates the soul
of every creature listening deeply
how the world sings unceasingly
with its eternal beauty and peace
while the stars are dancing passim.

In the rising sun
the beauty upholds
its stance,
but the pain
of humanity
is reflected
behind the moon.

The beauty is heart
as long as it has
wings and warmth,
the beauty is soul
as long as it has
sensitivity to hold.

The frenzy of
humanity
rises above
the moon,
but the sun will rise
in hope
every day
and create beauty
to survive.

As the heart fills with knowledge,
rising from the profound wiseness
of the world's hidden pouches,
the light strikes sharp in the eyes,
as the calmness comes into the soul
which fills quietly like the rising sea,
and the sunset changes into sunrise.

She blows the soft smoke gently away
sitting on her windowsill, the third floor
the darkened horizon melts drowsily
leaving its mysteries to her own heart
as it is not full enough of the madness

She rises slowly with the sweet smoke
turning her head towards the mirk sky
what is there to see, in her own world
closing the eyes to travel infinitely far
as the honey is melting in the tepid tea

She throws her glass of wine away
she smiles and cries as nobody sees
the darkness, deep and cruel but sweet
as is her heart, dark, but yet so soft and kind
painful and hateful, yet so loving and forgiving
mad and crazy but so deeply understanding

Why only the crescent comprehends
only the stars listen to the quiet melody
the songs of love and pure wistfulness
she knows everything but is scared of living
as the world is not kind, instead, it is cruel
the fear, the unknown, the failure of life itself

She puts her finger in the darkened wine
and draws a line on the wall with blood
enjoying the sadness and loving to hate
She likes to be alone, alone, sweet world
You, always alone in your deeds and thought

She sees from far, a distant closeness engulfs
only art saves the heart, only beauty consoles
the crescent starts to fade slowly and softly
many of the clouds swim towards their path
covering the moon and leaving her lying

Withering away as in the mind of destruction
where everything can make a nest within itself
she lies there motionlessly, silently, calmly
listening to every sound her heart whispers to her
as the music starts to play in her head of frenzy

She lived once but not anymore, as all fades
where does this crippling melancholy lead to
the stars never wrote a script for the existence
but they gave the mind a code to decipherer
as they gave the heart a wisdom to learn from

She pours the sweet Bordeaux in front of her
gulping in sips, turning her head, staring ahead
all is sweet, all is beauty, all is art if only you see
shadow the pain and leave it intact for the truth
as the time flows between her fingers to eternity

Im just a little sparkly star
in the heart of the universe
and you are a comet
who just flies by
fast and hastily
and disappearing
into the everlasting
night in the universe
in the 5th dimension

It was just a blink of the eye
and then it was gone
forever, you lost me
into the boundless ocean
in the hands of the Earth
when you drop something
you will only find it
in the hands of Poseidon
guarding strongly the land
of the deep blue eternity

And you will find me
in the heart of the universe
as the tiny sparkly star
sleeping calmly in the darkness
of gravity, matter and time
with no end or beginning

I swim in the dark space
between the stars and dust
trying to find the hidden grace
to choose is hard but you must

it's difficult without your shoes
to step on the broken fragments
of the shattered stars and planets

some of them shine bright
while others hide from the light
as the newborn flowers
which blossom at daylight
and close in the silence of night

cracks are in the universe
where flowers squeeze through
the seeds of the soul immerse
themselves in cosmos blue

and I wait until the ice melts
and gather the flowers in dust
to make them blossom in august

The kings scream on the mountain
where is all the salvation ending
the broken horses dash in vain
the clock in the water is pending

Oh and the water swallows all
it swallows all until waves recall
where they go and come
they swallow all
until you fall

When the wild rose is blooming
the lost fragments of memories
day's gown is slowly looming
lost beauties a night fairy sees

Oh and the water swallows all
it swallows all until waves recall
where they go and come
they swallow all
until you fall

And still you rise again
as you break the silver chain
and the broken horses lie
in the night sky not in vain

I saw the stars
You saw the moon
the light was in between
but the darkness was too deep
so you became darkness
and left me heartless

Love is some kind of a sweet escape
Who steals a piece out of your heart
And gives it back in another shape
Which does not match the initial part

Love is some kind of a Greek goddess
Who comes on earth to please you
But leaves you no more and no less
Than a punishment to go through

Love is some kind of a tender butterfly
Always beautiful to behold and catch
But hard to keep it from flying away
Or easy to **** it with a flaming match

Love is the sweet escape from yourself
But nobody knows what love is itself

Long are you waiting
the night stars to settle
as in the youth you see
always them glowing.

Staring the sky in quiet
expecting still but less
while nobody removes
the wrinkle on forhead.

He takes the brush
full of endless wonders
never runs out of
stories to ignite aflame.

Yet every day he seems
to fall into deep thought
in some other world
where beauty excists
inside a brittle crystal.

The brush, shattering it
to design carefully another
wondrous form of art.

Painter, draws the life
while the composer plays
music for the silky soul.

Poet, writes the lines
of eternal exsistence
while the dancer gives
heart for the movement
Of life.

Stars glisten softly
in the eternal universe
shedding bright glow
before your wistful steps
strolling down the streets.

Raindrops dance gladly
on the night kissed leaves
the smell of green jasmines
awaken your deep senses
making you halt and listen.

Love and longing rush,
pour down your vessels
you feel the soft glimmer
from depths of the heart
tears of saddness and joy.

One glowing time at winter night
while the stars wait in silence
the poet thinks of wrong and right
craving for unknown guidance.

Standing on the edge of univesre
where is the place of existance
quiet drops of thought disperse
in the emptiness of persistance.

What one desires the uttermost
is different from a single favor
the vast boarder of the life's coast
surrounds the desparate engraver.

The poet is the masterpiece of art
the creator of emotion and beauty
the drop of saddness in the heart
the poet engraves the life in melody.

You hold the goblet
full of water of life
evaporating slowly
in each gust you see
thousand pictures
forming solidly
you contemplate
closing your eyes
in front of the steam
while it enters quietly
to fill the soul anew
and let you feel again.

Before the dawn greets
gentle steps walk closer
down the glistening snow
but there is nobody near
the soft wind blows away
my essence and exictance
maybe it was only me
strolling along the snow
in my other world of beauty
which nobody sees nor hears
but all the mystery and art
comes to live in the heart.

Love lusting butterflies
cold is there, in deep
but warmth comes out
of your yearning soul
what do you hide there
cristalls of forgiveness
pearls of pure wiseness
and drops of sadness
the taste of life is sweet
the taste of living, bitter
mingle the beauty in one
and you see the depth
of love and eternity.

The feeling has not eluded yet
the rain not ceased or silenced
still you say somewhere far
that music, it engulfs it all.

In the bright nigh of spring
while all the flowers whisper
and water streams of happiness
life here is never meaningless.

The songs of birds and trees
the sound of pure liveliness
and you murmur, it recedes
when the music of heart bleeds.

The sunrays flicker on earth
diving nimbly through trees
casting their light in search
of time and life they seize.

Down this alley of memory
leaves crunching in silence
I once wandered longingly
searching the soul's balance.

Collecting crumbled parts
where lies the spirit of a poet
the glowing, shivering heart
echoing in the eternal moment.

Like a snowflake in a micro-planet
flying around in the vast universe
fading away, melting for eternity.
Small breaths carry your memories
fall of tears slide down the cheek
as the raindrops on your window
pouring out the life from your chest.
The little snowflake had a beauty,
meaning on its own, truth in the core,
hidden and observed, as life knows
how brittle and precious is every breath.

In the morning, a lively blackbird
calls for its loyal companion.
The dawn is young and luminous
As the painting on the old easel.
From the crack of the window
a breeze plays around the vivid room
tenderly touching the dry paintings
of last month’s tears and blood.

Standing at the door, observing,
the eyes wandering carefully
surpassing every slight detail,
closing for seconds, to compose
a pile of memories and pictures.
The coffee, ready on the windowsill,
a gust of smells swirl in the room
melting on the canvas depicting a hill.

Inspiration, I need you, dear muse,
are you blue, black or bordeaux
show me the landscape and love,
pour into me the tingling liquid,
so I can close the eyes and limn,
the paintbrush leaving impressions
like the life leaves traces in my soul
with flammable sharp expressions.

The hill on the threadbare canvas
multiplies as the colours mingle
bold lines swirl into each other,
the Pangoian Hills, fair Koutra,
the glory of Greece embraces it.
Lost in the tale, forgetting the rest,
what else keeps my soul in place
as the world makes it repressed.

I fly thousand miles away, painting
I hear the piano in my head, sonata,
Beethoven, the day’s melancholy.
The brush slides and curl swiftly
the beauty of nature comes to life,
passionate impulse, instinctive urge
precision and fever absorbs the Artist,
irresistible and weakening surge.

Day and night, trying hard to survive
grasping the world’s innate essence
yet never getting back enough or thrive
the Artist works, loves and dreams
living in the marvellous inner world
neatly painting the life of the universe
sitting from place to place, searching
hoping to succeed, trying to immerse.

Years passing, the music still playing
I need ardour to find the meaning.
Greece is glowing under the sunlight
throwing diamonds from the sky.
The Artist senses immense love
soft brush in the hand comes alive,
clear beauty, happiness flowing over
as the Artist eternally closes the eyes.

The road in front of me
Extending. Diminishing.
Back and forth. But I walk.
I keep the balance. No talk.

Drops are falling through
The mirror. I see the face.
I ask silently. No words.
I answer silently. I break
Silently. It only hurts.

I dance away this, everything
each move fractures another
window of the prison, shatter.
Shatter! Suddenly it is so
quiet.
Thoughts freeze, emotions boil
everything is too silent, after
after the constant moving.
Dance! Madness is everywhere
dance away, every bit of the
captivation. Inside.
I am madness, in the form of art.

When the moon shines at night
The one exhausting woeful fight
Starts amidst the heart of mine
Swirling in complete entwine.

Noone hears and noone listens
As the longing inside me hastens
In the soothing universe far away
Maybe I will find the perfect day.

Longing, missing, yearning
Waiting, the heart is burning
Forget, they say, escape, fight
But can I forget the moonlight?

Under thousand looming stars
Stamped in the night black sky
Where all the opputunities fly.

On the cold dew-covered ground
Standing under the star dust blanket
I realise my own insignificance.

Here, where kings and queens govern
Everything seems too substantial
Even your own image is so ambigous.

Complexity of life is beautiful as nature
The soul and heart of humans, fair
Or demonish and guileful, evil and sly

What guides your soul must be just
Like the universe in its brilliant grandeur
Simple love as the first step to generosity.

Delirium is sweet as honey
You are the victim of money
You paint your life on a paper
Yet everything becomes vapor
Heading on the road of youth
Is there a solution what soothes
Throught the fingers time melts
You are on your way, you knelt
The picture of Dali in your mind
The secret fortune, you must find
Hundred butterfiles are so brittle
Fortune is never firm, it is hidden
The flames are already engulfing
Now you must only confront it.

Oh say to me, what are
Those things you grave
In this flaming world.
Is it love you still maintain
Amidst your broken heart
Or is it caring
Compassion for those
Poor creatures who have
Nothing but day and night
To linger through their life.
As you are always
Kind and mighty in deeds
To use your power to make
Good out of the ill.
Tell me what is it and I will
Grant you every fortune
I gather and all the love
I find in the hidden beauty
Of the woeful world
To make better of thyself and me
And give the rest to those in need.

Writing a poem
under the moon
Contemplating
on a wooden chair
The silky curtains
spread their wings.

I hear a voice
your call at night
echoing on walls
I leave the ink
and run down
over the meadows
over the fields
and the moon
lightens my path.

The woods is dark
but does not halt
my rush toward you
I run for a while
I run for years.

In your room
is a coffin inside
on top of it are flowers
a bouquet of liliac lilies
I don't hear your voice
anymore. It is dark.
I sit by there for years.

It took centuries
to reach you
and seconds
to love you.
The moon on the hill
is standing still.

Confide in someone,
pour your heart
has so much power
as you are given
the honor to hold
somebody's soul
in your arms.

Les maladies du beau coeur
qui viennent sans nul de peur
qui étonnent et brouillent l'âme
mais toujours avec la charme.

L'idealist bizzare qui vit en vous
Qui rit et qui pleut, elle vient d'où?
Le mond n'est pa aussi beau qu'elle rêve
Mais la songe et si belle, elle s'releve.

La sympathie naturelle
La compassion éternelle
Entre les deux mondes
Qui suivre l'âme au fond.

La songe tient toujours belle
Malgré toutes la surréelle.

Those sublime flakes of snow
Flying down in a chaotic row
Tabbing  against the tender skin
Who, in the doleful end will win?
Sublime and sweet, the memory
Throbbing in grief too severely
I do feel the snowflakes of ache
Landing on the heart of rage
Not even trying to melt anymore
It's all too cold and bitterly sore.

You take a step
to eternity.
I take seven steps
to reach your soul.
The seventh one
I fall
down your heart
into the depth
of your inner black hole.

Am I ever coming out?
Being never
the same
or in the same place
anymore.
Swallowed up
by the number of stars.
Seven stars.
Seven times.
Seventh is your love.

A white tablecloth
shines brightly
in your empty eyes.

I call your name
But you don't hear.
You never heard.

I sit before the window
behind the wooden table
And look at the white
bright tablecloth.

There is only one
black hieroglyph
fallen from my heart
launched by my soul.

The brightness hurts
The sun burns my eyes
The hieroglyph melts
My heart freezes.
And you never saw.

What is Human?
What is You?
And what is I?
A bundle of feelings
A collection of emotions
A blend of worries.

It's all Human
Every single cell
Is living a delicate
Secret balance.

Living cells are the same
In every single one of us.
We try to live and be alive.

So why we make the world
A burden, a fear?
Why we make it hard to bear?

The beauty of living
Must be love.

Not hate.
Never hate.

As this will **** the living cell
And create an isolation wall
The universe does not welcome.
And we do not as well.

Dans les belles nuits sombres
Quand les pensées m’ont hantée
Je ne les peux jamais comprendre
Avant qui ils sont bien captivée

Les pensées si haute et grand
Entoure mon cœur tendre
Les petites doutes et offrandes
Qui mon âme de désir me rende

Les illusions, ceux qui existent
Ils sont doux, si trompeuses
Et pourtant je ne comprends pas
Pourquoi ils sont magnétiseuses.

Mes chères, édifiant rêveries
Qui me donne du chagrin, du mal
Mais sans qui je ne peux pas vivre
Les chimères, gentil et fantomal.

Where is love?
Where is compassion?
Where are those deepest feelings,
Of our human nature?
Which seem to have been captured,
By those who hate,
By those who ****,
By those who only live,
For the sake of an ideology,
Where there is no apology,
For those who truly suffer.
For those who try to make,
The world a better place
For those who do not hate
But bear the silent pain
Is it just all in vain?

Where, where is the love?
Where is tolerance?
Is there still a chance,
To change the sad world?
To remove the soul's pain
And all those ideas and beliefs
Which cleave and hurt us all
And bring no relief?

Where is this love...

Sometimes the wind blows too strongly,
Sometimes the mind flows too quickly,
Catching the wind is a challenge,
From fairytales and fantasy,
Catching the thoughts,
Is a pure nightmare.
So you become,
Bewildered.

What are words for me?
What is writing for me?

It is the freedom you see
When an imprisoned soul
Has freed itself
And flies completely free
Amongst the stars
Before again put into the cage
Of Life.

Mingled pain and pleasure,
I grasp the essence and harmony,
Of my heart´s  made subtle letters.
I breake a piece from the glass wall
Tossing it through the soul
And feeling it downstream
Through my crystallised vessels.

A glass wall of weakness
A glass wall of fear and madness.
A glass wall that is always there
Even if you hardly notice the presence.
I let the flow of the delicate words
Of the inner poem caress my soul
The inspirational power flooding in.

But the glass wall is ever so hard to break
So hard to step through for my own´s sake.
Is ever stronger when I feel the stress
Of the world´s burden and saddness.

Why I even let myself to be bothered?
Because I want to break through
The glass wall.

That is a dream.
For me as a woman.
For all of us.
A metaphor for our soul.

Tenderness of the steps
A night fairy walks on.
In the garden of starlight.
One bold tree grows, alone.

The night breeze is shaking
The branches, so fragile,
Though firm enough for taking
The burden of life's petal.

The fairy's shadow is casting
The beautiful moments in all
Unsure of how long is lasting
The shimmering hope's crystal.

Nature's wings are unforeseen
And yet the roots hold tight
No wind no storm no spleen
Would dispel the tree's light.

The strongest willpower
From the depth of the heart
Will hold walls more harder
Never missing soul's part.

It's easy to destroy
And easy to fall
Breaking the fragments
Haunting the phantoms
You want more, you want all.

There must be saddness
Covered in hope's gloden rag
Everywhere, isn´t there madness?
You can destroy me,
But you can never break,
My wall of will and hope.

I have a script painted in my heart
With black ink and gothic style
It is a passionate, fine art
Written with thoughts, so worthwhile.

It took me a while to wonder
And still it grasps every day
To think and linger
Between the life's eternity
In its mysterious way.

Every day there is something
To add more to the script
Every day is an art
Of living and surviving
In the depth.

All the time I take the pen
And practice the gothic font
It is a fine art, I am passionate
I do not let the ink to stain.

There is still so much to obtain.
Do not let the ink to stain.

The dew-washed sun
Sneaks out from the horizon
As a new day shows
Its joyful accomplishment

You sit on the rock
Of the moon kissed valley
Under the vast eternity
Accompanied by Anguish
And Sadness on your ohter side

The time when the bell rang hardly
Resonanting through your subtle heart
Breaking it fiercely apart.
The feeling of hurt and smell of blood
You desparately ask for the help of god.

Hearing the voice of destiny
Calling in whisper, swarming in shadow
You must rise again from the pain
Like a phoenix from the dust.

In the fresh fields and foggy nights
Putting the pieces together again
Like a never ending puzzle
The smallest fractions will always be lost.

Where are the helping hands,
Where is my host?

It is only you who can acknowlege
The true answer of all
The help, masterfully built
In both of your shoulders
Grasping the pieces
With your languid fingers.

There is hope in every fragment
There is power in thoughtful mind
The time when you step out from your cave
You realise you have only love, you hate in vain.

The life is riding on a merry-go-round
Whirling around the stars
It is rushing and running through
In a continues line of thought.

Until you stop it, make it stand still
And study the millions of pictures
Of the enormous amount of lives
And step on the solid base of it
And whirl along with the thrill.

So many souls pass by your side
So many secrets whisper in your ear
There seems to be no end of it
No end of the woe and despair

There is happiness and luck
There is desire and love
The merry-go-round is full of life
Full of emotions and thoughts

I wonder how it never breaks down
Under that heavy loud
And always goes around
In the circles it makes on the ground.

Starting from the inception
And going through the phases
The beginning of the end melts into a pearl
When you have the chance to gather it
And go along with the whirl.

I make art
With the thousand mysteries
Of my deepest feelings

I perform art
With the unconciousness
In the emptiness

Art from heart,
The purest urge
To free your soul
From every dip
Of the harassing reality

Art is what?
The purest need
To express the deep
Everlasting eternity.

The sweet tunes of the soul bells
Echo in the depth of eternity
Composing a divne symphony.

Light and darkness, hand in hand
Fight and subside on the quiet land.

Things I haven't told, maybe never will
Reside and smolder, in heart fulfilled.

The sweet tunes of your soul bells
They save you and bring you out of the hell.