Eugene Issaus

Eugene Issaus Poems

I feel the river of notes passing through my fingers

Black horse, strolling alone, to the river

After the fog gradually faded, I could see
In about a hundred steps away from me
A quiet estate extending towards the sea
Beyond a long crowded path of trees.

I. To Ashes, or, epilogue of the Flood

To Ashes.
Though my heart is still wandering

Our heart is a jigsaw puzzle
in reality, only half of it

To find a great friend

Transparent Bridge
reality and reality

I. A river flowing across the grassland
I was walking
no, hardly felt that I was

You nearly lived
a book
in the midst of flood

The crystals left behind
Glittering before your eyes

I. Long Wind

Long wind in the empty corridor
silence, but not quiet at all

A swirl of colours.
A blue ship attacking a green ship
A red ship sinking
The green ship can hardly stand

If face is a mask, I'll tear it down
and smash it, and burn it into ashes
till it disappear in front of me forever
Only if shame can go away with the face

Cold breezes from the windows
when I sit and stare
the book flip open
the words begin to fuse

The white truck didn’t run me over
on the day before yesterday
while I was crossing a main road
in quite a broken state.

There was not a single star in the sky
which was attentive, or even at its place
The white wolf was weary, it slacked its legs
The black wolf howled through the space—

Almost more silent than ever
Eugene slipped back into the corner
Observing at a defending distance
when several fellows gathered around **.


I beg for love, and people give me their glances.

I’ve got a character inside me
she has the same age as I—
she is the captive inside my heart

The Best Poem Of Eugene Issaus

38. Three Stanzas

I feel the river of notes passing through my fingers
I delight in the water movements create by the fishes
I stroll on the meadow which ceases to be silent
I sigh on the bare wind beyond the hovering air

Alas, what turmoil has it stirred upon me,
What regrets slip out from my heart’s chambers?
When the patching shadow is cast on the mountains,
I look upon the clouds in heaven.

I see the sparks springing out from my memory
I hear the crystals of which not yet exist
The notes never go beyond the piano,
yet, they linger inside me.

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