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"The windows of my room Open to the moment When you will arrive" |
"Fairies live far from here, Near the blue spring of light, At the end of the dark night" |
"The secret was revealed But nobody understood The secret remained a secret." |
"The key To the prison door Is in the prisoner's pocket And the prison Is in his mind." |
"In this dead-end They smell your mouth To find out if you have told someone: I love you. They smell your heart. These are strange times, my dear And they flog Love At the roadblock." |
"Vida's birthday is far, everyone is happy that's life in its bright light" |
"Vida is laughing, and that's all the need so far" |
"Vida will run this world, with joy in her eyes" |
"Vida will laugh to your stories, that's all you need for today, that's all" |
"Vida is brave in the heart, who said that's not all you want for this afternoon and moon in the skyline?" |
"A secret was with me;
I told the mountain.
A secret was with me;
I told the well.
On the lengthy path,
Alone and lonesome,
I told the black horse
I told the stones…
With my old secret
At last I arrived.
I uttered no words
You uttered no words;
I was shedding tears
You were shedding tears.
Then I sealed my lips
You re... |
"Never has been my heart,
I think,
So crimson and warm:
At the worst seconds
Of this deadly night,
I feel,
Thousands of founts of sun
Spout with certitude
in my heart.
In every corner
Of this salt-desert of despair,
Thousands of vivacious woods,
I feel,
Grow sudden out of ground.
You! My lost certitude... |
"On a moon-lit night
Moon is in my dream
It takes me with it
Alley to alley,
Into the vineyards
Into the plum trees.
Valley to valley
Meadow to meadow
Behind the thickets
Where a night fairy
Fearing and trembling
Steps into the spring;
Her unruly hair
She begins combing…
On a moon-lit night
Moon is in... |
"They sniff your breath
lest you have said: I love you.
They sniff your heart--
(such strange times, my sweet)
and they flog love
at every checkpoint.
We must hide love in the backroom.
In the cold of this dead-end crooked road
they stoke their pyres
with our poems... |
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