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Pomalutku

Czytać nadzieje w poezji jest dużo jak rozumieć niebieski kolor w niebie,

ona czuje, zna ten perfum, co nie może sama sobie kupić.

 

Ten wiatr ciągnie, utrzymuje ale nic ujawnia,

koty marzą, a ona ciągle czyta te same książki.

 

Szuka ten kolor wszędzie, jej farby nigdzie nie pasują,

wysyła pocztówki do siebie z miejsc nieznanych z których

zawsze pamięta dziękowac za piwo.

 

Lata idą, a ona powtarza sie, ciągle zapomina patrzyć na dół,

nieobecna że niedługo ominie go.

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Written by
ewelina-nowakowska
F / Polish
Published
May 19, 2011
Lines·Words
9·78
Notes

"Slowly"

 

Reading hope in poetry is much like understanding the blue in the sky,

she feels, knows this perfume, that she can't afford to buy on her own.

 

This wind pulls, maintains but doesn't reveal,

cats dream, she still reads the same books.

 

Searches for this color everywhere, her paint doesn't match anything,

she sends out postcards to herself from unknown places from which

she always remembers to thank for the beer.

 

Years go by, she repeats herself, still forgetting to look down,

unknowing that soon she'll pass him by.

Permission

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