Poezja

I was not there
where you are.
Non-stop travel, half the world
to meet you.

Outdoors alone in my homeless home
tonight I will talk to you in sleep
from the smoking hurts.

Trespassing the forbidden lineto the drowned boat,
I am opening the dark sails.

Hope and the sea
apprenticed to pluck the shells
from the eyes, I am wandering on beach.