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Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 7/20/2018

Look! - white petals, like the first snow,
like a holiday linen tablecloths.
I? - I remember those holidays:
warm shadows of candles, you put on the table,
and the puff of breath in disarray,
entertains with the play of colors, and from feathers... sizzles.

Look! - from smoke I plait this poem short:
for fogs over an autumn meadow
with heathers strewn and drowsy,
for stubbles, fields and forests - in honor - of bards!
I? - I know they're hardly rustling
the strophes of simple words... And you? - you weave sorrows!

Wieslaw Musialowski 6/19/2002
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 8/15/2018

Late moon
takes the baton
- offering to the twilight
a bow in sacrifice:
with glow greeting
star aesthetes
- an orchestra of crickets
- eternal poets,
so that songs of love
inspired by the muses
- they would loudly sing
in the thickets.

Wieslaw Musialowski 10/9/2001
Friends, I am asking for your understanding, because all my translations must be proofread and corrected. Poems are hard to translate (even in free verse translations). The original is rhymed. Regards.
Miss Daytona Sep 5
Clear to me a certain hour of the day
For a few seconds, at best,

The truth:

I’ve been locking drawers and
Sweeping pages under the rugs

Severing ties with July’s warmth
Tying a string across these months

I’ve been coping by fading into myself,
Shedding my skin by burning it off.

I have the pain but it isn’t felt,
And I know it isn’t right, but is it enough?

I’m stuck beneath the surface,
Pounding at the ceiling of a frozen lake

It is August and I thaw,
But still I don’t cry, I just ache
Susana Sep 3
Rainy night
in the middle of warm August
shall make me calmer
Rainy night
tossing and turning
trying to find my place in your welcoming arms
Rainy night
dreaming of milky skies
and never ending sunsets
sometimes it's nice to get soaked
Qweyku Aug 31
An ancient river
an old London chapel
&our last summer rays
of such an august Sun
      
The promise of niceties...
laughter, drinks, ice cream
& perhaps a softly stolen kiss

Fill my hand with yours.

If you please;
a pleasant walk with you
up on Tower Hill

© Qwey.ku
Who knows?
Seanathon Aug 30
Through the rivers and the rain
   My emotions seep

No matter how far I reach
   How quiet I be
      Or how fervently I wish
      For this condensated heart to dry

Beneath stars and moonlight vain
   I stay
      Locked in the garden of perpetual being
         Without your warmth of certain meaning

And when the new morning comes
   With the quiet thought
      I realize what I had always ought

That I cannot seem to make you mine
   Regardless of the place or time
https://youtu.be/HGekjZd5LPk
Jenay Jarvis Aug 28
To put into words
Would add a sense of permanence.

Instead can I skip around this one?
Can I instead speak of spilled sunlight?
Solitary thoughts? The windless moon?

And of a distant boy,

Here on a late August evening,
Somewhere dreaming.
ren Aug 22
I can’t come to your wedding. Because you will stand there looking so perfect⁠—I mean perfect. There will not be a single flaw on your face. You will stand in front of the aisle with such excitement and happiness you’re waiting for her to walk down the aisle. And you will marry someone who loves you. But if I went, I would sit there, loving you too.
3 weeks later, it still ached
Peter B Aug 18
August never ends
in grace.
It reminds us of the passing time
and it always hurts.

August makes us commit
inner suicide,
before September hits
and gives us a second life.

August never ends
in grace.

In August
Death puts a smile
only on dead man's face.
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