Maria Barbara Korynt

I am outside the range
and very well
nobody will reach me
unless I am willing
...

She is falling softly on the floor with thin muslin
Taken down nervously from shoulders.
As will o' the wisps on swamps
Hands turning white with glow of the moon
...

this dream is beginning in the street when at night
carefully I am looking at the more and more dark sky
and suddenly I see creatures some strange are flying
degenerated though similar to reptile-birds
...

still sleep and dream,
before the first ray will wake you up.

let weakness and sadness leave you
...

You are searching from the morning
for the oasis. It is only a mirage.
Don't delude yourself.
You didn't want to listen
...

depth of your eyes
attract me as the magnet
and I am drowning
in them
...

here is many door. and you always
hit into my most. often when there is no me.
you are stopping. and you are entering.
in order after oneself to leave something.
...

and there no pain...only the...BRIGHTNES


dying quietly in the morning
...

love isn't asking, when it is taking into the captivity.
love doesn't ask but it is forcing his way by force
then you have trouble when to sleep you cannot
you aren't sleeping after nights and you are mixing
...

Already sleep
and sweet dream

Darling...
...

I am going I am going
I am going I am going...
one step, two, three.... nine....
ground floor, first, second, third,
...

like with rainbow stripes

the separated blueness
...

you want to con me, like waters,
straight into the fist,
until bluish purple
...

quietly and sadly
then again empty gardens
the park also emptied
...

I am taking the pale cheek out,
not for effect, I am searching for rays.
a skin swelled.
...

you are humming a melody
under the nose
whom you remember so well the past
is returning with refrain
...

thought that it was a sweet bird
chick, darling baby
therefore very much firmly
he was surprised
...

she dissolved golden rays
of long spikes of the wheat hair
and with the eye being on fire
tumbled down into his reflecting shoulders
...

the evening is lying down on my shoulders
a time of warm breaths is coming
magic of the evening under eyelids
...

heart...well is beating
it only appoints the clock tact
of passing moments
of hours caught into the trap
...