Mihaela Pirjol Poems
We cannot aspire to that which is already dead,
And there is no solace in delusion;
We should save the present for future memories
Thus, to remember we had a life we lived.
No soul which is born alone and dies alone ever pertain
To anyone, on this mortal realm of mortals;
Nothing we are, but an evanescent breath of air;
Utopian significance of being insignificant.
How a superbus phallus in carnal pleasure dies,
That ephemeral all these earthly passions are;
Like the face of moon from dusk till dawn
When sun replace its ardour with other kind of ...
Under The Exotic Tree
There...under the exotic tree,
The candid child in us at play;
I saw the little boy in thee
In woods, with joy running that day;
Our hands, softly touching a leaf green,
In hearts, rosy love blooming unseen.
" I've never got lost in forest when I was a boy! "
Thou said, whilst thyself losing in me;