A Woman Of Thousand Faces
My woman of thousand faces
Is not mine, independently of endless trying on
My thousand masks. She’s dipping her lips
In the black coffee which flushing her beautiful teeth,
If you were a shore rinsed by murmurous waves,
Mottled with mosaics of sharp stones and seaweed,
Meandering as the curly hair strand shone through by the Sun,
When I was a small boy
I thought that the humpbacks are
Hiding their wings poorly.
A Sad Tale
And it seemed to him as he had struggled with a dragon of nine heads
In order to free the imprisoned innocent girl from a high tower,
But it turned out that the girl, who wasn’t already innocent,
Only got bored sitting at home, under the supervision of parents,
Summer. The Second Shot
Prohibitions, prohibitions: no camping, no bathing.
Strange, there are no prohibitions from the side of this lake -
No overflowing the shore, no destroying the coast.
Metaphysics Of Feelings
Sometimes the world is reduced to
The rear seat of a car.
Your feet support the 'heaven'
My hands support the 'earth.'