sâmbătă, 24 iunie 2017

Caldura serii

Batea briza racoroasa
Langa geamul larg deschis
Era ventilatorul negru
Pus in colt de loc intins.

Se auzea chitara afara
Lin, incetisor, suav
Ei intinsi pe marmura
Vorbind de zor, rumoare,
Zumzet al caldurii sclav.

duminică, 18 iunie 2017

Casute in dezacord

Casute mici de lemn
Se insirau in zare
Asteptand un semn
Sa se arunce in mare.

Vantul batea usor
Soarele zambea tare
Fara niciun norisor
Sa ii rapeasca din suflare.

E tarziu in seara
Dar lumina inca e calda
Si inunda seara de vara
Cu zarele-i se scalda
In marea cea de nord
Zambind in dezacord.

joi, 4 mai 2017


There she sat in a corner
The darkest of the room
Looking like a mourner
Of what was in bloom
In the forgotten garden
She missed so much
Waiting for a pardon
Or a warm, soft touch.

She had very little skin
Only face and fingers
Though covered in muscles
She was a robot within
One of the few singers
That also solves puzzles

miercuri, 8 martie 2017

La maison du papillon

Mais c'est quoi?

C'est un papillon
Volant dans le bois
Malgré le tourbillon
Du monde et du soi.

Aimant le doux soleil
Qui chaufe les soies
Il rencontre les abeilles
Cherchant les nymphéas.

Lui, il vole vers la rose
Pour prendre sa dose
De gaieté et de vie
Car elle
L' irréelle
En floraison
Est la maison du papillon.

luni, 20 februarie 2017

Undone rain

Late into the night the sky was giving
Pearls of water to the world called rain
While everyone was busy living
The lives they though they reign.

The pearls were dripping from the leaves
The last soldiers left on the branches
Since last autumn the planet breathes
And we with her enjoying brunches.

The cold is now mild but the wind brisk
The air is cool and smells like spring
The lovely flowers are taking a risk
And venture themselves for a fling
With the warmth of the one called Sun
Left in the past like all things, undone.

duminică, 29 ianuarie 2017

The apple

It turned to ashes in the night
The thought the lady had
The one of what might
Happen to crave so bad.

She was designed to want
Like Eve wanting the apple
It's the genetic's code wand
That makes it all a scrapple.

The forbidden is desired
While the real is denied
The future is all patterned
And the past is all scattered.