Kiss: A Fragmented Level Poem by Fatmir Terziu

Everyone here at this point
are convinced,
forced to watch
the setting of climbing ladders,
as well as the deduction,
for those stories about the signs
of fingernails
touching in sleek and invincible shapes
are plotted.

Colours that have been rinsed
with the compression of the feet
on a granite base
the trained fingers
in forced-climbing,
the peak where life invites without scratching
time of different love.

Not every scratch
has here its history,
just a few of them
are memorized.

Once the stories languish,
details that left Dali are stuck
and from the height
various artefacts have been translated,
in the language of precious art:
For what is all this?

Soft and wise,
the voice of the woman
in a whisper,
give me a little more flashing details,
her lips touch me beyond art,
keeping her regular look
tidings
we are fortunate enough!

The kiss remembers the memories of the memory,
and thus, comes down the moon
the green ruin waves over these stairs
objects, shapes, colours
clouded by the sweat of the sweat
and nature itself...

In the opposite direction, in the opposite direction

the trees cling their brow,
and body movements
become lighter and less distinct.

Metro has already opened its mouth
flows under the scale,
doorstep
and life beyond prayer
an army with patience enters an infinite row,
from the semi-open gates. For a regular kiss,
French shake me. To enter the Other,
expensive that torments me.

Montmartre, Paris 2017