Eugenia Dubinova

There was always a thought I was harboring, 

waiting for the right moon's crescent above us, 

waiting for the right soil, fertile and strong.

I've crossed the cold oceans—holding it,
...

What if we were to observe our dreams,
As if we were only strangers who won a lottery
to a paradise land, for a temporary visit.
...

You said I could trust it,
But by morning, I will finally wake up, without fleeting from the dream room.
I see this vision; it sings to me,
Comes inside me and leaks through me.
...

All our miracles,
we can whisper with coyness.
I can put my hand on your heart,
you can put your hand on my eyes.
...

Loss has once again
bewitched me.
Everything that I did treasure—
I was fated to lose.
...

Exhausted feet on the exhausted soil.
Glances we may or may not have exchanged,
that to us would remain a mystery, perhaps an illusion.
Because our eyes tend to reside in a transfixed habitat.
...

I love you almost every day.
Light rain. Pluie fine in French.
Angels of art slowly sliding down the ladder into our gravitational reality,
in their own chromatic rhythm.
...

To die like a common man,
to embody the death that my father had predicted for himself,
as all those forefathers before him predicted and embodied themselves.
...

One has to accept the times of no lights coming from the seashore.
One has to accept that pain can stand taller and paralyze the gentle heart of a stranger.
One has to accept the mirage of a starry night, mirrored in the wet eyes, house ablaze behind.
...

You left me here all alone,
but never will I blame you,
for I would never find a reason to be angry,
but I will find at least an eternal number of reasons to miss you.
...

Sometimes encounters are just encounters.
Sometimes, you meet someone you can imagine spending a lifetime with,
only to walk away in the tender hope of meeting them again,
trusting the master to make your paths coincide, just one more time.
...