Words Poem by Andrej Grampovcan

By night, when sleep is out of a room,
thoughts of restless soul are becoming ways
words in song, as he follows redly
they are howling with closed fists in snow.

Inspiration is like volcano of rhythm of lava per paper,
syllables are building already verses and words,
stanzas are hands of branches for new avenues,
and song is like picture of mosaic in frame.

And if words miss song,
maybe corrections follow?
But if there will be no corrections and he stays such,

word is a birth and a death, corner always at the same time
love within palms and sadness within eyes, corner
old tired solitude, that lies down under tree.
.