Poezja

Hold me tight, my friend,
I am going to sail in damnation.
Between devil and saint
I have lost my home.

A wooden ship is on fire
at the turbulent sea
and I am going to welcome you
on the starboard.
I would keep the funeral in waiting.

Flowering of the ashes has begun
in urn. Sitting in semicircle, you watch
the spilling. Bones meet mother earth.
Death creates the challenge.

Go for a tree, watch your silence,
we are going for a contradiction.
The thoughts are same, but not similar.
I am walking on sharp edges.