My bus
Rebecca, a colleague
Is great, an artist
Generous, she offered
To friends, her palace
October to April.
She posted two photos
Miracle, miracle, miracle
Sufi-like and simple.
I love it
I love it
I love it
But dervish, as I am
I must say: “Sorry man! ”
The nature around it
Inspired, imagines:
Sound of wind when howling
And the wolves when calling
Zeus and Apollo, every god in sky
Angry and jealous; like thunder
Crying and shouting, pearls of hail.
The old bus is heaven
In green and open.
Close eyes and foresee
Pure, white and virgin
The snow of winter
The snow of winter
The snow of winter.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This work is very inspired, very lyrical. The palace looks magnificent, but how overwhelming is The snow of winter, The snow of winter? A great poem.