Ouroboros

On Christmas morn
gran'ma got up betimes in the night
to bake the homemade bread and ring-shaped bread,
she was followed by gran'pa, carryin' some water and chopped woods,
My mom used to come with delicately-tasty pies and her breath was warm,
The angels sifted down flour

Dad prepared the dear little sleigh,
the entire hill roared like joy,
at home our Christmas tree was waitin' for us,
as well as the presents,
the Light

On Christmas morn
through me wanders a snake,
I got awakened solely as to get warmer
by a couple of tears,
the sky sketches a grimase,
that's all it got left after its last kiss with the Sun

I'm gettin' aslept,
a carol from childhood's accompanyin' me,
I hug all the dreams,
it's supposed that I should cross the bridge,
that I should tuck up the veil,
over here no one wants me,
between today and tomorrow
I'm gonna choose... the beyond.

A paradise-paradox painted in orange

Christmas mornings in tears
with clenched fists like eyes to the brim on,
those cast up against the ceiling;
into some bed clothes you’re huddlin’ uncertainties,
white flowers bleeding, nibblin’ at some pains,
the demons are whisperin’ those carols of the Hell

the silence’s scrapin’ the skin,
the cold’s smashin’ nuclei,
I’m hungry with the wings,
those that don’t belong to me,
a spirit whose incarnation
is to be governed by others

that uniformity,
that order with no escape,
what an oddity, if you’ll consider that all my live
I’ve been painting only that serene sky...

 translated by Miqhael-M. Khesapeake

I'm still breatin', unreiteratively by Oliver Klauss translated by Miqhael-M. Khesapeake

I'm still breathin', the words it's what keeps me alive as a big ball of lead
hung from the suicide's neck,
I'm still breathin', they lied to me that in the Hell are gonna embrace me arms of fire,
I live among demons, then, why I feel chilly when I slip
from the sea waves to my shell?
I never had a house of my own,
the blankets that once were covering me are now
some birds lost there in the Knowledge Tree,
you call now every heartbeat the love...

Now everything is obviously pre-established by God,
the drowning, the murk, the jail,
the unknown laws of living, as unlearned,
unimagined,
unreiterative ones...

Within me there're still bleeding wounds by Oliver Klauss translated by Miqhael-M. Khesapeake

I am a tree with dry leaves,
a smouldered fire like lingering to die out,
within me there're still bleeding wounds
and the deep marks begin to be painful a lot

Within me there're living only words
with broken wings I'm elevating to the sky,
within my soul there're dug graves,
it's winter just forever and a cold dry

I am a path which toward nowhere leads
with small steps, like one from sleep awaken,
I'm staring into vacancy with full-of-fog eyes
and I have still a heart of a HUMAN...

Dying away...

by Oliver Klauss
translated by Miqhael-M. Khesapeake



I wasn't born ahead of schedule,
by contraries, I stayed in at warmth one week more,
feeling from within there that disgust I'll encounter
like a knocking at the door.
They extracted me out so forcefully that they told me later
that maybe I was conceived out of magnets and electric current.

They washed me up cleaning all over the blood and blood began to flow.
They didn't sight that barbed wire with thorns
which was supposed to wound later some flesh and clay.

Voice to me, my love, the escape from loneliness,
keep your rancid taste of the first sin
or, perchance, only one single poison drop is gonna pull down the curtain
unto another dying away...

Losing immortality

the birth of the butterflies is no everyday wonder
as the crane voices is the wonder of each summer
in the beginning instead of creating words
tearing the blue
then silence merging the clouds in a magical scarf
just rest your thoughts here
on the buds of light
and look at the flying chandeliers
you'll see the colors of the wind
painted on your wings
carving the air

just be careful not to let the infinite escape
through your fingers
then all the flights would be
as simple as a crown of thorns
losing immortality

Crushed meat in the arms of fire

Now you finally see how you made me walk through those uttered words and I used to fall asleep in each and every soul you untied.Allow these tired eyes to whisper me about the shadows once more.My hands,my old rotted hands will melt then the last snow of April.
Come, fire,the master of the crust wings is ready to paths.In the midnight hour a bell tells about the end of a hunt.
Faith,please do not forget about faith ,take it in your arms as a child that barely conquered light and crush any trace of meat in earthen lamps. No need to adorn your body in gold ,we'd only take this ray to guide us from the depths to the eternity.Keep the ashes alive,I could go gather the remains of us at dusk .
I miss the truth that used to keep us together.Hide the nails too,this time no crucifixion will ever hurt me!

Sacred frame

Please do not move the pendulum
The left wall of the heart does not relieve the gravity of sin
Blind chance breaking the hour
Roots of scream penetrating the daily asphalt
Cementing soles gripping the ribs,coloring the synapses
Silence bleeding in a hilarious laugh
Achille is cutting the arteries of his time
I finally squeeze a last drop of blue
From the sky under your skin,under your fingers
When I tenderly slide from the icons
Angels moving the meridians of destiny to illuminate the sacred circle
Accomplishing the breath of substance
The bed will cover us as a womb
Rustle birds chaining at the crossroads
Voluptuous exaltations
Humility
I will write again the genesis in blood
The book of life aspires the abyss
God rises from the heart's throb
The galaxies drip in the sheets of love
Our mouths painfully break their common respiration
The sphere divides the reflection of grace
A two-headed illusion
Swallows humanity 

translated by Oliver Klauss

Original poem in romanian by Maria Elena Chindea- ''Rama de sacru'' 

Die tragische Puppe

Oliver Klauss
La poupee tragique

Die tragische Puppe

wer hat mir den Himmel geklaut
fragte sie niedergeschlagen
die Puppe ohne Lächeln
ohne Röte auf den Wangen

sie weinte so
schon lange nicht mehr
seit dem Begräbnis
ihres ersten Wortes
irgendwo jenseits
der versteinerten Augen
unter der Erde fingen
die Glocken an zu schlagen
in fremden Kadenzen
jede Träne
Erhöhung und Fluch

Traurigkeit malt sich
in weiß und schwarz
eine unterbrochene Linie
ein Elektrokardiogramm
eines Herzens in Gips

Traducere: Renate Müller

Himmelstagebuch

Gott lächelte als er den Himmel schuf.
Die großartige blaue Decke,
die das Universum zudeckt, einhüllt
in ein Märchen über die Macht des Wortes.

Der Abenduntergang schluckt das Licht
wie eine hungrige Bitte.
Scheibe aus täglichem Brot.
Auf der anderen Seite
mimt die Sonne den Maler.

Siehe, das Pastellrot
trägt der Wind durch die Venen
die nach mehr Farbe schreien,
nach viel Unendlichkeit.

Der Mond – ein Funke
versteckt sich in meine Lider.
Sterne – Kohlen verbrennen
meine Fußsohlen.
Die gemurmelten Morgen
waschen meine Augen im Tau.

Ich öffne die Arme
um eine Welle zu umarmen,
ein Wunder, die Zeit.
Ich bin die Kraft eines
kaum ausgesprochenem,
kaum geatmeten Gedankens.
.
Traducere: Renate Müller

Diary of the sky

God himself smiled when he created heavens
A mighty blue blanket
Universal coverage,enveloping all
In a story about
The power of the word

Dusk swallows light
Just like a hungry mouth
Takes the slice of ever day bread
On the other side
Sun is playing the painter

Look at the pastel light
The wind bearing it
Through the veins crying
For more color
And more infinite

The moon -a sparkle
Hiding in the shadows
Stars -coals burning my feet
Pure morning washing
My face in raw dew

I open my arms to hold
A wave, a wonder,time
I feel like the power of a
Barely spoken
Barely breathing...

1440 minutes of sadness

Sometimes we both feel like snatching the serum
From each second and
Re arrange the cells
Following a formula
Already memorized and too much
Practiced in school

Please today don't tell me about love
As it barely clings
In a trembling eyelid
Just do not confuse  my tired look
With the suture point
From the dark blue wounds

Now you sit on the soft chair of my thoughts
As if you were a bunch of flowers
Over my grave
I'm ready to burst
Myself
Or the one inside me
( picture deviantart.com
author Gadjo TNT)

I heal

Don't worry
I will heal
From this heart surrounded by thorns
A blue-white wandering
The meat of eternity
I heal
Helped by people
Their open arms
They get me out of the dust
And get me off with my memories
From time hypocrisy
I heal
 

When you love an angel

Oh Lord, the keys to love are in your hands
All hearts you open
With the power of wisdom
In the evening, every evening
You send me an angel
Then you take her away from me
When the light comes


God, someday those locksmiths
Will turn in the hands of truth
And no, I don't want to cross the bridge
From being in nothingness
Without wings

My white horse dressed in butterflies/Pe calul meu alb din fluturi- origial text by Ileana Popescu Baldea

Running.You are the horse of my destiny.A big sparkle on the moon.On your saddle a star from those seven stars
Among the cliffs I shake disheveled ,thinking
Greeting loneliness ,tasting the white stones
Sometimes used to be the rest of an imperfect equation
Trying to bypass infinity alongside other palms
And hide the rising with the eye of a hoof
Running again.The horse of my destiny's dressed now in white butterflies
He catches impossible dreams ,raising
In his nostrils love and the steam of the unwritten poems
Wandering ,oh Lord,the sound of a grey Wednesday
My wild horse throws the star into the sea
He walks like a shadow on the waves
A foreign brain refuses the order .Through the sand-the last agreement
Kneeling,his tresses shining in the moonlight
Starts praying
What's left now from a tear ,the wet snout of destiny
Turns his head just as a time sparkle in the nothingness of summer
A whimper of white dresses the eternity

Prosthetics for my amputated soul

Forgive me
You've seen before this electric fence
Around my heart
Separating me from your common world
Every hug
Every sentence ever breathed
The hell shouts
So,you thought I was all about fire
When the light actually descends on glaciers
 
No, I'll never heal
The war offered me this gun
Hidden under my vertebrae

seasons in formaldehyde

they are working so hard in the secret laboratories
tireless hands preparing occult substances
the anti-autumn serum should be tested
by the end of september

be careful as to preserve in those tubes
the water of the sea,the sand keeping
lovers' footprints
bright rays
the sweet twilight perfume

rain like tears
gather them in the womb
of a breeding ground
do not let us kneel
in front of your anger ,mother nature

the road crossing majestic trees
with leaves adorning your hair
they're more alive
than a heart beating

keep the love season
in an hourglass
in our common blood
the touches...

( if anyone knows who the author of the photography is let me know!)

Still flying with my wing so broken

Love will hurt me once more
As the thorns of the rose will be stuck
So deep,until finding the sap
The scent of a broken heart
I've been witnessing the touch
And the mysterious abyss
Ready to fall
To fall with me

I grew up in the black cradle
When you asked me where the sparkles grow
I didn't know the answer
As I wandering here
Just a stray

Don't we all have a salvation
And the eyes of the mirrors
Can't reflect anything but
Stones willing to become flowers

Churches sell illusions
The fake idols
For whom the bells tolls
For the hungry bodies!

Still flying with my wing so broken
As a bird falling
On a mast
Waiting for tomorrow's flight
Warmer,brighter

Your rainbow

If love's got the color of your eyes
Then it should be as blue as the sea
During a summertime vacation
Wind caressing your hair
Love's got the color of your lips
Kissing all my pain away
Healing wounds
Love is faith , heavens and joy
A smaller God, a greater passion
When all by yourself
You float through my dreams
Your eyes will seek for the white, the black
The red in the beating of my heart
Please, whisper me the rain
Cause I'm your rainbow

( picture- Sheila Diemert- Autumn Waltz; fineartamerica.com

Born clumsy

You are always being so clumsy Oliver
Said my poor primary school teacher
You can't play football like all the boys do
You're not so social, friendly or a good student
Always fighting , never good at math or too religious
Haven't you ever been to church...at all?!
Yes, I've been, but ,oh hell, the church has never been to me

Hey, what are you thinking about, shouted my driving teacher
You are not paying attention to the road at all
Well, to be honest , I am not paying much
I love living in the country ,drinking cold water not soda

Tell me a secret, have you ever been to ..you know..those ''ladies'' asked once a closed friend
Nope, they were always coming to me
I am such a beauty , ain't I?!
( Probably between midnight and midday , when sleeping...)

So...,what happened to your career ?
I always thought you'd become a policeman
Nope, I can't become what I hate the most
I'm just another sad apple ''artist''
You know, I had to choose between my soul
And intellectual prostitution...

Poetry is not a replacement for food

Poetry is not a replacement for food,said father
Concerned with fixing the kitchen sink
Glad that he might have found a new axiom
Or the theory of the air compressed

Please,I don't wanna hear about the soul again!
I've studied enough to know
Soul does not need food
Nor water

But father,said I
You need to dress it up in good deeds
From time to time to caress it
With words of grace

He never bought me a poetry book
I had to read from the others
As my life had been written
By their unfamiliar hands

If I could ever,ever
Show him
How poetry is my best friend
My suture for sadness...

While you were dreaming

Night throws dissected beads
On the lace of heaven
Slumbering insects lurking in the grass
Their eyes tiny as a needle pr*ck
Stoned in their couch
You're dreaming and
Rain caresses your window
The eye lashes are silk
Perfectly framed in the shell of time
 
I will whisper a fairy tale
So as to make you come closer
On the same path a lullaby
I don't find it unknown anymore
 
I ran out of love
When you caught me up
A heart spreading
In the common chests
 
Now I remember
How heat enveloped us
From the elbows to the knees
Sparks vibrating
With the crucifixion of our first kiss
 

Maybe there's a light at the end of sorrow (dedicated to Deb)

the funeral cortege passed through your soul
in small steps, whispering sadness
he forgot to ask for a last hug
with the womb

it's true that once he had been
a peak, a rock in the mountain
until wind painted
a crucifixion

i'll keep your memory alive,said her
hooks will not have anyone to hang but myself
whose meat to cut into small pieces
since I am doomed
the death i'll welcome arms wide open

maybe there's a light at the end of sorrow
and this gray morning will turn up to be a wake up call
in my falling the angels are near
as to the very first stone to follow me

Bequest for Maria

please have mercy of this dry hand
touching the universe to write to you
maybe for the last time
a life story
lost in the mystery of your smile
as a measurement for happiness
I fall asleep

hungry letters
feel the need for light
through the translucent vibrations
I listen to the echo
of the trembling lips

now I understand the game
a clouds relies on vocals
lightnings whisper consonants
the rain kneads the words

maria I am just a child
I sip bits of breathings
the sights of the walls transcend
into rebuilding the peace
barefoot I play with the ABC of silence
as I scribble on the sand
a poem with my tears

Consider this the true meaning of love

I'll tell you once more about love
As a secular prayer catapulted skyward
Drawn in the sand of oblivion seconds witness
A sparkling touch

I'm a life addict,but related to death
Although I do not remember how far I wander
Into your ribs
When they come out of the darkness
It's such a small world out there
You help me keep it warm
I lean against the moments
Breathing my shadow in your palms

Just a passage and the infinite re-opens the wounds
Lonely I, as a bird
Under the twilight mirror
Dragging the meat
In search for a shelter

Unwritten poem about love( translated from romanian.original poem by Nadia Padure)

I feel the need to write
This thought's following me like a shadow
I have to write about love
It's as if one searches for a sun ray
In the morning mists
I have to write about love
But all I think about is the bird in the heights
The flight,the wings embracing the air
Just like the arms of a woman
Floating through the wheat field
I dream that bird as a ghost
Calling me in the night
Beyond the rusty gates of pain
A calling as a cry for life
Or maybe a song gathered
From the blue silences of the sky
I must knead a poem about that bird in my heart
So as not to fly in the country where all the birds
Never come back in our dreams
Beyond the flight only eternity writes poetry
In the jaded hearts
I have to write about a bird....
trebuie să scriu
gândul mă urmărește ca o umbră
trebuie să scriu despre dragoste
e ca și cum aș căuta o rază
în ceața dimineții
trebuie să scriu despre dragoste
dar eu mă gândesc la pasărea din înalturi
și la zborul ei cu aripile
ce îmbrățișează văzduhul
ca brațele femeii
plutind prin lanul de grâu
visez pasărea ca pe o nălucă
care mă strigă în noapte dincolo de porțile
ruginite ale durerii
chemarea ei precum un țipăt de viață
sau poate e cântecul adunat
din tăcerile albastre
ale cerului
trebuie să frământ un poem despre această pasăre
din inima mea
atât cât nu a zburat în țara de unde păsările
nu se mai întorc în vise
dincolo de zborul ei doar veșnicia mai scrie poeme
în inimile roase de vremuri
trebuie să scriu despre o pasăre

My childhood didn't taste like oranges

It's hard to remember my father cheerful
He always came back thoughtfully
As if the sky had fallen on his shoulders 
 Sometimes he used to bring me two oranges
 Along with the daily bread
Maybe he considered this would compensate
The lack of a hug

Watching other children
Playing with their parents
Preparing them for life
That moment only the sun
Could wash away my tears

His hands were never mine
In the shadow of the moment
Only our common blood remained awoken
Thrown into indifference
I learned that a mountain of ice
Will never melt
Not as long as a cold heart
Is still beating

Ice cubes on a body of clay

You spread your heart up to the sky
Maybe searching for untouched wings
The distance between two hugs
We measure it in full seconds
Blank ones
I feel you so fragile, so innocent
In my palms
Like the sand from the top of the mountain
A nest of light

That's the only way I can gather
Sun and ice
I let another day pass
In the city of love
Until blood breaks
The iceberg

If you ever walk here
You'll find a dry land
Waiting for the teardrops

Sounds

Music is the  nectar of heavens
Poured in royal goblets
An elixir for the soul
Each atom decomposing
Into vibration
And breaks the silence

Music is the mantra of the angels
On the other side of stars
A colorful dream

The mystery of the spheres
I listen
I live
I reborn as sounds

In the church of my heart
A harp
Is chanting the prayer

I've never met a happy poet

I've never met a happy poet
Just pale shadows swaying
Between past and present
Words coming to life
Incarnating into a god
With full powers

On the other side
The eyes unseen start begging for tears
Heavy eyelids close
Because of those sleepless nights
Here's the love
You used to fear

Syllables gather on paper
Changing direction
Create an universe out of nothing
Verses flowing lik a summer rain
On the shoulders
A breathtaking poem

Well, I've never met a happy poet
Today all words are asleep
To reborn tomorrow
In the book of pain
As an unwavery statue

Я не встречал счастливых поэтов(russian translation by Nadia Padure)

я не встречал счастливых поэтов
только качающиеся тени
между вчера и сегодня
волшебство слов начинает жить
перевоплощается в бога
полного сил

с другой стороны
невидимые глаза вымаливают слезы
имеют тяжелые веки
может бессонные ночи
а вот и любовь
которой ты так боялся
слоги собираются на бумаге
изменяют свое значение
из ничего создают целое
строки текут как летний дождь
на плечи
поэзия вдоха
видишь я не встречал счастливых поэтов
сегодня умирает их слово
завтра рождается мысль
в книге страданий
поэзия непоколебимая статуя

ذاكرة السماء

أرتدى الصمت من كفي أم رقيق
رائحة عشب لم يمس
و يعكس الصيف السماء
في الأفق الأزرق
فأعبر جبال الهواء
على مسار الكون
ربما هناك ظل
أو شجرة
أو جيش النمل
من فناء الأجداد
أنها تمطر إبتسامات وألوان
إشارة أن الله يحبنا
أنا هنا، وأنت هنا
نلالمس أيدينا
كما في صلاة السر


Arabic version for Memories of the sky by Altair Laahad. Thank you so much. I feel honored.
I don't know arabic at all, but I cam fell the vibration when listening to the translation.Poetry is all about

emotion.

The black cradle

In the mental asylum

Death breathes a song

Anna's keeping flowers in her gentle arms

Caressing the trees

The sky's so sad now

As a fugitive

Hidden in the catacoms

Her pale mumbling

Wandering between I've been and I am

I will defet you!

That's all I could hear

Before she became

A crashed bird

On the alphalt's shoulders

Today loneliness has a rancid taste

Just like a soul bathed in vinegar

Passenger in a plane

Crucified on the vast sky

The burden of memory

Over the black cradle

A cross

The living poem

Poets are able to  survive with just a slice of light
And a glass full of hope
Even beyond the knowledge
I bow before the swelter
Paid for creation
Heresy of words
Embracing my mind

In the workshops of my head
Epithets are seeking the nest
Sometimes drinking the nectar of the metaphors
Make love to the muses
Then spreading their echo
In the universe
You know
There's no greater happiness
Then that of the lips kissing
Each heartbeat
Of this living poem

Desideratum

Chased by night
I touched my angel on her right shoulder
With a kiss
The left shoulder shuddered
Searching for a glance
It is true that sometimes
She forgets her wings on a rebel cloud
Light touching heaven
With the power of love
Then , just for a moment
I can see tears in the mirror
Passage of time
Like a butterfly
On the other side
Of silence

Thorn reflections

I've worn you before
Love doesn't really exist
As dreams are just reflections
of ourselves
In the mirror of the night
Don't you dare to deny it
Just watch  hope
Trickling time
As the thorns sprouting a heart
By a fence of phony illusions

Enclosed in silence ( poetic duet with Patrizia Beatini)

The candle has burned the oxygen
Sharing sadness
As the the beggars share
same dreams
in a cold winter night
a loaf of bread
or same tears
in some different eyes

Your hands and mine
the same dreams
gathering the waves from the sea
Cineraceus flames
Crossing the darkness
A lost boat leading nowhere
Out of nothing, God popped out
Spreading love

I started warbling with silence
The only way I could make you mine
Harvesting the night
Enclosed you in my embrace

and so lost
into emptiness
we found freedom

Suture for sadness

All the trees were leafless down there
As the shadows fearing light
Opaque colors painting still life
Words as weapons
Sharpened their blade
On the lips of the heart

The end - a transparent dusk
hungry words
groping thin air
If you turn to me
the disconsolate face of loneliness
will offer suture for your sadness

every whisper as a burden
takes me deeper
beyond heavens
never expected your love to be
so cold
so colorless

Litany of tears

The eyes in the ceiling
seemed heavier now
Walls tighten hi with invisible hands
Ready to clap a new drama called
Live as a disability
Traveling hell with dying stars above
A flight into the 1000 dreams
Memories have been all intact there
Echoes hit by indifference

Love's a snake crept into the bones
Heavy hammers
left bloody footprints
On the sunset meat
A profane pray
In the litany of tears
Caressed his cheeks

Light- an ascension
of the last rite
before his first collapse

Mga handumanan sa langit (Cebuano/Bisaya Translation by Tiara Fernandez)

Memories of the Sky
by Oliver Klauss

I wear the silence
From mother’s gentle palms
The scent of grass untouched
Summer reflecting heaven
In the clear blue horizon
I cross the air mountains
On the path of universe
Maybe there’s a shadow
A tree
Or the ants army
From my grandparents yard
It’s raining smiles and colors
A sign that God loves us
I’m here , you’re here
Touching our hands
Like in a secret prayer

.
.
.


Cebuano/Bisaya Translation:

"Mga Handumanan sa Langit"

Akong gisul-ob ang kahilom,
Gikan sa ligdong nga mga kamot sa akong inahan

Ang kahumot sa mga sagbot wala pa makoptan

Gisalamin sa ting-init ang langit
Sa klaro nga asul nga kapunaw-punawan

Niagi ko sa mga kabukiran sa hangin
Padulong sa dalan sa kalibotan

Basin naay anino
Usa ka kahoy
Usa ka kasundalohan sa mga langgam
Gikan sa tugkaran sa akong mga apohan

Nag-uwan ug mga ngisi ug mga kolor,
Usa ka timaan nga gimahal ta sa Diyos

Naa ko dinhi, naa ka dinhi
Nagkinoptanay sa atong isig ka mga kamot
Nga mura ug patago nga nag-ampo

Elos do coração( translated into portuguese by BlueDolphin)

As pontes que uniam montanhas
Ruíram agora...
Assim como todas as correntes
Que nos atavam pelo coração:
Uma nova era
De pranto chegou.


 Heart-related

The bridges between the mountains
Are now broken
And all the chains that
Held us heart-related
A new age has come
For shedding tears

Ang Tahimik na Diyos ( tagalog translation by Joel Mazo)

Ang kalaliman ng impiyerno'y bukas
Naghihintay sa atin
Isang tuldok ng karayom
Ang mga bubog ng langit
Gaya ng mandarayang karagatan
Na tangay ang kaluluwang hungkag
Kung saan
Ang mga barko'y lumubog
Ay maaaninag sa hukay
Hindi ko makilala ako
Hindi ko mahinto ang pagkahulog
Ang aking pagsamba'y nagkukunwaring
Tahimik na Diyos
Na bumulagta sa mga tao


The Silent God

Hell's steep's wide open
Waiting for us
A suture point
Heaven's mirrors
Like a false sea
With a ravaged soul
In which
The sunk ships
Are reflected in the abyss
I can't find myself
Can't stop falling
My religion disguised
Into a silent God
Collapsed over people

Dementia

They've asked me to describe my depression
I always tell them I enjoy it
As much as a bottle of good wine
Or german beer
Although I may also get drunk
At midnight
And sleepwalk
Through your dirty conscience

I fear confusion
There will be a time
Where these feeling are a misfit
A slain second
No more than a abstruse twilight
Sun painting the heresy of colors
Your love
The burden in the abyss

I am the clown now
Laughing and crying
For no reason
I shall clutch every laughter, every tear away
The foot bridge between realms
broken
I love every moment of pain
Mine and yours...

在两件故事之间/Between Two Stories ( chinese translation)

你摆脱我
把天空的衣服
扔到水中
束心劲
在括弧中迷路
方程式
有破碎的心

我记不得
什么带来我到这儿
在这个蛮荒的夜中
在粗糙的星当中
我可能走失了
在两件故事之间
我的和我们的

La poupee tragique /italian version by Patrizia Beatini /picture by Eleanor Boyce

Who stole my sky
Asked deflecting
The doll with no smile
And a pale face
She has never cried so much
Since the funeral
Of her first uttered word
Somewhere beyond
The blindness
Of pure blue eyes

Under the heavy ground
Bells began to ring
In foreign candences
Ever tear being
Both exaltation and burden

Should I paint sadness
In black or white
A dotted line
Electrocardiogram
Of a heart in plaster




 Chi mi ha rubato il cielo?
Ho chiesto di passaggio
alla bambola senza sorriso
un viso pallido.
Lei non ha mai pianto così tanto
fino al funerale,
la sua prima parola pronunciata
da qualche parte
al di là della cecità
di puri occhi azzurri.

Sotto il terreno pesante
i rintocchi delle campane
in straniere cadenze,
non c'è mai stata una lacrima
nè per l'esaltazione, nè per il fardello.

Dovrei dipingere la tristezza
di bianco o di nero
una linea tratteggiata
elettrocardiogramma
di un cuore di gesso

Lace ballet

The army of angels
Whispered innocence
Just like a lullaby
Mother used to sing
In the evening, before bedtime
I  dreamed of  God
Playing the flute
And all the clouds
In a lace ballet
Shed their wings
Children with their wet hair
Dancing in the rain
Violently and tender

Oh, that terrible interview!

'' Do you use a special technique in your poetry?''
No, I am not an engineer.
''Is there anything you hate about poetry?''
Yes, falseness, hypocrisy and putting the pen on paper just for the sake of it.Better use it as a helpful instrument for your enema.
''Do you love your father?
I ''adore'' him as much as he ''adores'' me.
''Oh, you wish him to die?''
Who ? Me? I just wish him to live and ....suffer.
''So, do you trust anyone?''
Yes, the mirror
''Do you love anyone?
Sure, myself, ain't I perfect?!
''Have you ever been in love''?
Yes, by a heart surrounded with an electric fence.
''Do you believe in ghosts? Do you fear them?
No, neither do I in humans. I just fear myself.
''Describe life in 2 words....
Terrible execution
''Is there anything you've learned from people?
Absolutely .....nothing!
''Are you thankful to people that like your poetry?
Should I? First of all, I write for myself, as a healing process, cleaning my soul-sometimes words hurt as much as a scalpel cut, no anesthesia  needed.Let's just say I appreciate them reading and ''understanding'' it.
''Do you write about your past, present, future?
I write about anything that impress me. I mostly write about memories, as ghosts hunting me, as I am unwillingly stuck in the present, and future is yet to come.
''Thank you , hope you enjoyed''
To be honest, I didn't, but well, if you asked, I am always honest, yet quite ironic, ain't I?

Ardent desire

He kept on breathing the clogged atmosphere
In his old wheelchair
Watching the window
All he desired was
To hold all that flourishing filed
In his palms
As a heart
Which no longer belongs to him
A bit of happiness
Seen through the veil of tears
But he's just a crippled doll
Life has forgotten in the attic

La donna del mio sangue( translated by Patrizia Beatini)

a volte, ruba un secondo
a quel vecchio orologio sul muro.
Copre il suo sorriso in petali del tempo,
diventa così piccola,
potrei portarla in tasca.
La donna del mio sangue
cresce in me
come un bambino a piedi nudi
e ha i capelli arruffati,
aspettando il vento.