Down the Balcony
The evening shades fall aslant
towards the stairs.
Down the balcony lie the bushes,
lie the woods, the long abysses.
Down the balcony lie the quinces,
lie the apples,
the muses,
the wells,
and the waves of the Ionian.
Shade after shade, until the last hill,
fears lie down,
the shakings, the rains,
the equations
and the doubts.
Down the balcony are the winters,
are the ups and the downs.
Down the balcony are the muses,
are the lemons,
the hands,
and the passing desires,
a flight of waves that fade.
I Know the Sea Is Grieving
I know that the sea is grieving
in the middle of a waterlogged winter.
I feel sea fever at the end of December,
and fires that fade without making noise.
I’m afraid – it is getting cold!
I shiver from the wind that blows,
and like the sea,
I don’t feel quite well,
even in the midst of June,
when the entire world refreshes itself
in the water willingly,
not violently,
when the waves fade
in the branches of foreign blood,
and the fires burn in the eyes of a cyclops.
I know that the sea is grieving.
In the Eyelashes of Your Eye
A galaxy fades into the boundless sky
of your eye.
Endlessness sends you far –
on the Milky Way now you are.
This dream that you are dreaming
connects you to me,
and I read
over your eyelashes,
and wrap myself in it
like a spider’s web.
You transform before me
into a comet approaching.
Fiery,
you burn the coldness.
And then, in the ups and downs
of feelings,
my star seeks to find a place
in your sleep.
You leave this world quietly
at the speed of a comet.
You wander
through interstellar space
and fill your eyes
with a new light.
I feel
the slowing down of time,
the oblivion of this world
in your eyelashes.
