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Her ships, sailed across oceans of Perfumes
Like ghosts of flowers on the skin of a woman's face
Has she woke up or has she established this before
Her ships will take her to any place she'll imagine

When she tread down the street
She suddenly tripped
In front of a grocery store
She Bite her lips turn them
blushing red with embarrassment
At that moment
Her ships almost enter a whirlpool
One man stopped her and asked
where you want to go:
Iceland? Jamaica? New Zealand?
The end of the world?
Any particular place?

She got on a buss and discovered three cities
There is nothing like the bustling of a city
that never stops
to preserve woman's youth
As the square market  whisper her poems
Her ships took her to:
Iceland, Jamaica, New Zealand,
The end of the world
To any particular place

But what happened to her in front of the sea ?
No one can really tell
She smiled and and her eyes glowed
Her imagination is soar freely,
And then she Said:
My ships will take me wherever they will
Iceland, Jamaica, New Zealand,
The end of the world
To any particular place

ובחזרה לעברית
סירות, לטייל ברחבי אוקיינוסים של בושם
הם כמו רוחות רפאים של פרחים לעור פניה של אישה
לאחר מכן הוא מתעורר, או שהוא הקים לפני
הספינות שלה חדש קחת אותה לישראל
היא יצאה לרחוב מעד מול המכולת
היא נשכה את שפתיה האדימו ממבוכה
הספינות שלה כמעט נכנסת למערבולת
ובחור אחד שאל אותה לאן שהיא צריכה.
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
היא עלתה על קו וגילה שלושה עיר אחרת
אין כמו עיר ללא הפסקה הבכורה של אישה
היא סיננה שיר מרובע, בשוק נקרא לה גברת
הספינה שלה לקחו אותה לארץ חדשה
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
מה קרה לה מול הים היא ממש לא אומר
הסתר את החיוך ושתי עיניים זוהר
הדמיון מפליג חופשי, זה כל מה שהיא אומרת
הספינות שלי לקחת אותי לאן שהן רוצות
איסלנד, ג'מייקה, ניו זילנד, סוף העולם
במקום מסוים
606 · Jul 2014
Bubbls of salt
italic* bold
Sound of waves crushing on the shore
Thousand seagulls screaming
Foam on the sand grains
Ans again, no marks left

The only the marks that it really like
Shown after the storm
when it retch them out to sand :
Sea shells, ships Fractures,
Bone white logs to...

It play with the winds
Or the winds play with the waves
My feet sinking in the wet sand
The grains caress my toes
Today I play with the ripples on the shore

Salt dried on my face
Mixed with the salt of my own body
From the windows of my soul
It's answer to the swells
Like a forgotten memory to time
that we came from the water
The Year start in mid-September
The Winds grow angry
They will fight their way in every direction
The Winter will be short and deadly

Some say that the end of the world is coming
Nights are growing dark
All summer the skies were red from pain
Below the earth was burning  fire

In the middle  of us
Madness is coming and going
Life fools us around
I am looking inside me
Searching for some peace  
I can't find it
Where all this leads us?

The Year begins in mid-September
Winter is the hardest
All my songs are fleeing away
From this burning front of fire
Maybe they do not want to suffer

Some say that the end of the world is coming
The dark are just growing
All summer the skies were red from pain
Below the earth was burning  fire
As the summer sun rays,
long white days stretching to infinity.
The river face covered by
A lay of, peaceful, vast of, loneliness.
All windows are wide open,
Pale, blue silence.
Tall and straight are the bridges
Between, those past days
To those, which would come.
It’s so easy to bear your silence
Long white days,
Since my eyes had learn how to smile,
They stop tried accelerate,
The sweeps, upon a clock face.
Tall and straight are the bridges
Between, those days that gone by
And those days, that would come.
Accustomed to itself,
My heart, slowly count its throbs.
And by the sweet gentle beat,
Reconciled, yield and relaxed.
Like a lullaby, a baby hum a to himself,
Just a little, before, his eyes would close.
When his weary mom stopped to sing,
And Fall asleep.

— The End —