Pages 31 to 40

Haiku III

Milling days passing,
Dates touching sails afar
Light in the night.

Wanderer I

Are you bright, where is your splendour
Hidden in the corners of an island
Covered with lines shadowing the skin
Why do you think life is better in the brim
Unless you find obsessions in the dark
Challenges in the light?

Do you think splashing sand in the air
Stops your eyes of seeing?
May the day of curly waves
Crush doubts of paradise alien
No drink, no colour disguised
Brings life tragedy and no art . . .

Ah! Comedy of lovers and dreams
Once young now forgotten, ruined
Rush our songs bring us old, new
Chance the world, chance your love
Call me, our, all, forever, and you
For you I will take now a new day . . .

A start-creation, the moon
Foolish thoughts, a brother, a sister
No ceiling covers your sort
You and you sample of raw
No ideas, no arctic, no draw
Lovers of no art, counts of no high . . .

Choice no, fate of the might
Leave old, fetch young
You are naught, only past
Old is new, dress life, no skin
You, sample me, offspring, no mirror
Young, young power at your feet . . .

Get lost, dare you on me
Eyes in the eyes
Foolish in each side
No matter but falling, being
I and you prime foreseen
Jail chains, irons of disgust . . .

Dare foretell love to rust
And songs and hymns
Only you and him, me
Dying, no order no compass
Passion, no surrender no farce
Be what never you dreamt to be . . .

No tender, no mud, no blood
Drops of me, drops of you
No buy . . . Youth!

Wanderer II

Are you bright, where is your splendour
Hidden in the corners of an island
Covered with lines shadowing the skin
Why do you think life is better in the brim
Unless you find obsessions in the dark
Challenges in the light?

Do you think splashing sand into the air
Stops your eyes of seeing?
May the day of curly waves
Crush doubts of paradise alien
No drink, no colour disguised brings life
Only tragedy or no art . . .

Ah! Comedy of lovers and dreams
Once young now forgotten . . . ruined
Rush our songs; bring the old, always new
Chance the real, chance love, you
Call me, now . . . be all, forever, and I
For you, I will take blind each new day . . .

A fresh start, the creation of a heart . . . look at the moon
Foolish thoughts I have, a brother . . . a sister
No . . . no ceiling covers your sort
You and you are raw samples of vacuity
No ideas alive feeding your kind
Only searching for lovers of no art . . .

Choice! No! That is the fate of the might
Let off the old skin; draw young plastic . . .
You are naught, nil, only past
Old is new, it dresses life . . . why a new skin?
You, be brave . . . give the mirror to another lover
Young . . . be young, power in your feelings . . .

Get lost, once, forever . . . dare you on me
Take my burning side, eyes in the eyes
Foolish in each side, smile
No matter how . . . fall and bring yourself
I and you, prime foreseen, instead
Jail, chains, or irons of disgust disguise . . .

Dare foretell . . . love does not rust
Draw from the chasm songs and hymns
Only you and him, only life and hope, me
Dying, no! Make no plans, no need of a compass
Clear adamant passions . . . no surrender, no farce
Eyes closed, be whatever you have dreamt to be . . .

No tender . . . no mud . . . no blood can fog your eyes
Free a rising sun . . . only drops of me and drops of you . . .
Youth, dejected mould; it is not for sale . . .
There is nothing to buy . . .

On the road

Greetings traveller of light . . .
Flower of the motors, a sight


My hands dare, my lips make fire . . .
No break down in the way, no tyre

No sin is no sign in the road of life . . .
But you and me parking in the night

Pure energy battering faces . . .
No stop-changing lanes

Both enraptured in ourselves . . .
Through high junctions of shadows

Both single in the oceans of stars . . .
No end to our journey even afar

But one, under the roots of desire . . .
A flyover ties our hands, a pyre.

Sweet girl

Sweet girl, bring me the person within
Tell me what innocence looks like
Count loud how many more days you want to be
And how many still crowded are left behind
Tell me how many to be lived in unrequited love
Tell me how many dreams will cross your nights
And whether they will be ghostly disturbed in vile fights
How many more to be healed by struggling hopes
How many guesses will raise you a smile
How strong you are at the end of any beguiling rope
Before dusk in a desert of solitude of any unannounced dawn
But tell me all jokes freshly planted in your front garden
Slanted aligned in an oblong square tight
Waiting to blossom at the sound of a wink of Spartan mosaic
Tell me how young you are
How far your world will take you safely in the dark
Tell me what you need
Which book you will write
Finally tell me
Which striking love will love you eternally?

When a morning . . .

When a morning is suddenly broken by the wind wooing passing fast leafy trees


And the calls of our past take us in awe to where our heart sleeps freely


Where the chirping of a rosy celestial bird covers the silence of the future


There will be a song breaking the mould of the present, bringing you to me.

Feeling better?

Feeling better
Eyes alive
Smiling memories
Tearing moments
Fondling hearts
Steps in life
Friendly souls
Waiting, find
Sunday together

Feel my fingers on your lips

Feel my fingers on your lips
My eyes on your heart
My dreams under your pillow
My wings covering your body
And my hope on your smile

My romantic heart

  My friend of bright shining eyes
Grant me some of your dreaming time
I will sit tranquilly close to your bedside
Cutting fresh the shadow of the night stars
My hand unhurriedly finding your hair
Made of hay severed in a morning meadow
I see your gentle forehead dawning a newborn freedom
Your heart rocking, pounding for the dew of life
Everyday new, everyday born from the plight
Between the sombre cold twilight of the dusk
The cross desire of your warm heart
And the day, pulsing, glowing for nothing
But a happy awaking, opening your eyes to the light.

The rush hour

The rush hour
The lost time
The window open
A kite lost in your direction
The wind caressing your hair
Verdi calling the Gods
And I stop to think of you