Brisk moments drippling into spaces
Keep me, so, innerly amazed.
I weave about those rare laces
Of phrases, intricate, in haze.
Of snowy flakes, I watch the twilight.
I trace the reveries, up set.
I watch sift comets, through my eyelids.
Instead bein' joyous, I just bet
Of the remindings, of the losses,
Of minor things that stir behind.
The luck is blankly, bleakly tossed, yet.
I keep ideas, at my mind.
I follow the route abrupted,
My my itinerary's lost.
It's all the same; the life's full-blood, still.
For flaws just, fingers are kept crossed.
It's all the same, the plot is dull so.
Oh tedious, habitual dreams.
Oh melting knots, oh bonds and puzzles.
Vanilla sweets and foamy cream.
Oh coffee-flavored esterkhazi,
Long shades, aromas slightly left.
So one survives his brisk disasters,
His arsons, frauds and instant thefts.
The morn is watching iron blinders.
I watch the stony bones of strands.
I hear my yesterday's reminders,
I'm offered helpless, empty hands.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem