5. THE SKY LOVES YOU SILENTLY Poem by Milko Valent

seven is the number of heavy love.
that is written in the sky that loves you silently.
at spring music fairs
I'm a prosecuted Pythagoras.
almost drunk on mathematics
I force the rivers without banks:
three-part paranoia of beginning, middle, and end.
I believe in coincidence engineered
by the wise drugged gods in us.
that is why I peacefully fell asleep inside you.
I dreamt about heavy wrinkles of girls,
swift intelligence and the passion of the turtle.
the emptiness in the Club Amadeus and in other
girls could have been cut with a knife
like pets in distress.
sleep, the sky loves us silently.
tomorrow at seven o'clock we will drink a chamomile tea
and again work on jazz.
that essential thing swells slowly, never urgently.
we are not the first, we are the last aid.
throw on the seven and hug till you die.