The Wind Moved Your Image
The wind moved your image;
I saw it, even though I was far away.
When the sun’s rays fell,
heliotrope was brought like a gift.
Feelings in a ray of sunlight turned into light,
the rays rested on your face;
it felt like a sunset that afternoon,
a sunset that lit up every wish.
From sunsets, we have withered,
and we have prayed to the moon so often.
And your tired face from that day,
returned once more between us.
Time itself turned into rays
and made my day transparent.
It felt like a morning, that afternoon,
with the innocent wind that passed.
The Magnet of the Sou
A wave of your soul
was burned by thirst,
and that fire
turned the sky blue.
I have turned into a stone
that waits for the next wave,
to wash away the passion,
or for the passion to wash me away.
In the mirror of time,
you embroider the blue,
From my stone,
a violet water drop,
and the blue blood
you mention so many times,
I feel
how it drips into the seas.
That blueness
settles beneath the skin;
the heart drowns in the lake.
In seven springs
that rise from the same rock,
my soul whispers your name.
And your sky
remained just a cloud,
a magic in your eyes,
a mirror.
My magnetic soul
that draws you near,
your magnetic soul
only repels me.
A Blue Butterfly
A blue butterfly
comes to rest on my brow,
without a key, without a knock,
it opens the door of the soul
and measures
the depths of your feeling,
against the pending dawns,
when night
parts from the sun.
And you, the new moon,
with the orbit drawing near,
are burned
in the invisible flame
of a world awakening.
Just a breath of you
remains inside me,
it’s enough
for another world,
without the moon,
and the old sun.
