Rhapsody

19-06-2016

The owls, delivered the pasture’s news at night,

Emphasizing its ruthlessness of life.

As to all the end is inevitable.

Unlike the cohesiveness of the jungle.

In the past, the animals used to talk,

Eagerly listening to the lion,

As he shared his impossible dream!

Leaving the jungle and once again possessing the pasture!

To accompany his pride and eat meat,

Yet time passed to no avail!

To the grass eater,

This lion’s obituary was written on tree leaves,

As a nice gesture from the jungle members.

The birds collected the leaves,

And spread them all over the pasture,

So maybe someone will hear the lion voice in his story.

Pianola

To: Lavinia

26-02-2015

Listen to the guy, who lives in a box,

His story hasn't ended yet!

He seeks his own trick,

To impress the attendees.

As the dream of appearing in comics,

As a hero who can fly,

High above, like a flock of birds.

Yet, the eagle is still the king of the sky.

Ordinary capabilities

To: Lavinia

01-02-2015

A walk at noon

With those who have little time left.

In a snooze of time,

We only have the past to retrace

As the future became insignificant

Like pre-death promises

To a woman laying down

In the hope she will feel you.

When I was young

4-1-2014

To: Lavinia

A kid in the morning,

throwing bread crumbs to pigeons,

so as to run after it and laugh.

A woman in the afternoon,

looks at the pigeons spiral movement,

hoping for a solution to her eternal predicament.

A man at the beginning of the night,

throws rocks at the pigeons,

as its shit ruined the square.

Winter of discontent

20-6-2014

The monk promised him salvation, 

Thr writer promised him a chant commemorating his championships,

The wife  promised him children bearing his name,

And his father promised to pray for him.

He is a war hero,

Died after killing everyone.

Hang the victory icon

As today's friends died

Before they became tomorrow's enemies.

Nocturnal Promenade

25-04-2014

When he told their story, he smiled

When she told their story, she held his hands

All the nocturnal chats

And the coldness in the morning

Disappeared

Their memory began fading away

What they have left are some adventures

But when you own the flower,

Its already dead.

Me and Her

20-02-14

With Nostalgic eyes,

She saw me as a child

In our backyard

When the clown called upon us:.

Let's have fun, the Ferris wheel has arrived.

It lit the whole street,

So we played all night long.

The small bird might dream of flying,

If not,

At least it built its nest up the tree