|
No sky
limits the
flight
of a seagull |
In the eyes
the horizon
in silence |
| |
|
|
You look in
vain
for the back
of the Death.
It smiles |
Deep nails
tattoo a love
on my back |
| |
|
|
Train:
Mohammed,
Christ, Buddha
or The Nothing -
same seats |
Sunset,
the sun's a
flower
of my memories |
| |
|
|
Trained fleas
jump well
on TV |
During a
quarrel
everyone
shouts
without words |
| |
|
|
In every vein
the blood
flows
the same color |
Spring,
every leaf
chooses
its wind |
| |
|
|
Lace feet
inside old
taverns.
Tango of
Buenos Aires |
You, me,
stupid things
keep us far
from the
feared "us" |
| |
|
|
The silence of
the cat,
the bark of
the dog -
Ying and Yang
in the air |
Morning, I see
a jeko on the
ceiling –
two floors |
| |
|
|
With no net
beyond the
rainbow
my acrobats |
An explosion
of wind,
the flight of
a butterfly
without
freedom |
|
|
|
