Eva Polak Poems

I would like I would like singing a new song singing a new song. When the rain falls down, gently on the ground, wetting the dried grass, flowing on the course, dropping on the roads. I would like singing a new song, looking from the closed window and feeling like I am apart from the rest, the water and the wind, the sky and the stars, it is all more than I see. It is all above.
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The moon does not come down. Let's life go by together. Expired photo novel. First undo your braids. Color your lips first! Then think of me, that I am there in front of you. Expired photo novel. You no longer believe that we can dare, really? Hope for more. Hope for more. With the hearts in our hands. With a look that wanders far away. Let's life go by together. And nothing more to struggle.
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May the sky surround my dreams, may the sky surround your dreams, eternally involved in the build up process. Eternally devoted to what is done, before me, before, you, before them, before us. All is big, all is complex and simple are the needs. May the land be good, may the see be calm, may the wind bring the right advice. May the peace be in every land on planet Earth.
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Fantastic voyage. Fantastic voyage. Mirable visions, pretty voices. Keeping the void inside. No word, no cry. Crowded roads, it is the sky, it is the sky, it is the Universe, all above and around. Pretty voices, pretty voices, fantastic voyage, all in a time of a glimpse of light.
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Finally, I hear the melody of the little bird outside, the tweet is near my gentle heart. Peace. I listen to the whispers of the nature. The noise of the shoes upon the lying leaves. It is not a disturb, it is a thing that is done by everyone, by anyone, outside the window something happens like it did. And finally I hear the tweet. I hear the perfect melody. Peace. It is not a dream, it is what I have reached by myself. Finally I feel the offlimit, the backlash of my keens.
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Apple's syrup. A grey morning in a day of holiday. A parcel and a leaf of rosemary upon the windowsill. A passenger stops in front of my bush of pink roses. He looks around and he steals a blossom. Goodbye to a lazybone and to a dearest one! Apple's syrup and a token of compassion. It is a morning in a day of grey.
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Loving kettle, a cup of tea. Serendipity before Christmas. Home. It is the running Winter. It is a block of ice in the outside. Remember, the footsteps, the arcades in the days of Autumn. All is the same, except for the manifacture of some objects placed upon the banquets of a city or another one. Loving days.
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The seat upon the floor, the scent of a red rose. Say a word of trust, say a word of reprise. High hands towards a sky that cries tears. Say a word of a reprise, feed the hope, this is the only imperative I would like hearing in a chant of amazing voices. The feast is on. The feast is on. It will be okay!
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Tingling shadows, loneliness is a redundant vane. Smirks and glances, all in a crowded space. Severely whispered a chunk of wise speech. Tingling shadows.
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Vanity that does not take away, vanity that helps. Feminine vanity. I only say it to me. You are wonderful, indeed, you are magnificent, woman really. You are glorious, you are the right word, indeed. Vanity that does not take away. Heart that beats, eye that brights. I only say it to me. You are marvelous, you are a smile, everywhere you go. Woman really. You are yourself, indeed. Vanity, comfit pink.
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