Sunday, May 13, 2012

Appassionata 2



11-05-2012

You will be cursed once again
You go along with the sea waves
At the bottom, Fish is calmly swimming
Despite the waves

In the eyes of every mother
A mirror, the child sees himself for the first time

Then you will know that any feelings,
Are real

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Song for remembrance


27-04-2012

Let’s start from the beginning one more time.
In the green pastures, dead trees
Trying to wake up from their slumber

Bird spend their winter signing,
songs about love and death

He is a young child running on the beach
With his kite
That wonders the skies looking for clouds

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

The Shadow of the tree

17-4-2012
Draw a portrait you see yourself in
Where face change by season,

Wait for the ship's smoke on the horizon
It approaches you, with your internal rhythm.

All what remains for you,
Is a song she will remember you by


Sunday, March 4, 2012

On the water bank, the lost fish

03/03/2012
Two small children sitting on a worn piece of wood
The boy patted on the shoulder of the girl
Reassuring her that everything will be fine
How did we put ourselves in this predicament?
The girl wondered
It does not matter
What is important is that we are laying down
Catching our breath
On a cold day
Warming ourselves up under the shadow of the trees

Wednesday, February 15, 2012

Euphoric Dreams



14-2-2012

When the child woke up from her sleep,
She grabbed the brush and oil paint
Drew a doll, she always wanted to have
And dreamt of playing with it

The mother opened the door
The girl turned to look, wishfully
Both fought for who gets to play more
Then came the morning

Friday, January 27, 2012

No other opportunity

27-1-2012


With her small palm,
The girl stands calling the clouds,
The rain starts falling.

She greets you, wearing her wet yellow dress

You listen to the voice of the old warriors
In their inevitable loss battle

Then comes the perfect kiss
That you didn’t expect

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

Immortal beloved

18-01-2012

The purple colon
Sculpted on her legs
Torne apart in its last third
Her profession doesn’t know love or hate.
At night she walks dreaming of flying trees
And astonished birds