• A Withered Rose

    A withered rose is a withered rose

    is a withered rose.

    Its head bows in mourning,

    it sheds pink petals

    like enormous tears.



    My head also contemplates the floor

    where nothing grows.... more »

  • Epilogue

    Between the sun and me
    there is a veil of quietude
    which protects my eyes
    from the scratch of light
    which spares my being
    from the blister of knowledge
    which allows my self
    to breathe undisturbed.

    So now the war is over
    and now the love is over:
    How beautiful the death
    well prepared in advance.... more »

  • Purity

    Amazing solitude.

    Only me and my cigarette,

    and this tiny dragonfly

    painted in Moldavian monastery blue.



    Nothing threatens me,

    not even the sun.

    The sky is an immense cloud

    made of mother-of-pearl.

    The lake is an immense cloud

    made of mother-of-pearl.

    I am the mermaid of the lake.

    — I am an infinite melody

    like the murmur of the rain.



    And I am clean,

    like the poem I'm writing.... more »