Murderer of Time

Your songs go past.
Your voice is fading.
There is no water

in the Time


Shadows of the Sun
make war on you.
Your memories like stream

all passing by.


In the dry basin
with grinning, round visage
is evil yellow

the moonlight.

Midnight Reflections

My life carries so much tension,

that must be divided into two aspects.

One of them is so full of sensuality,

the hands,

the touch:

creeping slowly into the senses,

however very deep into the unconscious.


The other aspect:

an enormous longing for the unseen,
unknown,
unreachable...


This is an eternal desire;

only to be satisfied at the point,
when one get the recognition, that:

the unknown is equal to the already known,

the secret is equal to the discovered.