Poezja

Gliding on the clover 
you invoke the sky. 
 
A tiger moth lands on the― 
sweet viola to seek liberation. 
 
You die to find a rival― 
to cheat the moon. 
 
Everynight a silver bleeds 
to write your name on the stone. 
 
What you dream, does not 
become your neighbour. 
 
You give a big hearty 
laugh to frighten yourself.