How sweet time feelswhen it’s too late and you don’t have to followher swinging hips all the way intoyour dying imagination (Leonard Cohen) When it’s too late it is too late for everything. Too late to tell her how much you love her. How much you loved to see her move between the kitchen table [...]
God (but you are beautiful) I whisper, half afraid to breathe or close my eyes. So beautiful (and here with me) and I am old and I am hungry (lonely) and not used to worlds of wonder. Come. (She comes to me.) And I am naked and I die a miracle of dreams.
Dreaming, cold and beautiful, winter is back home again in Prague, like ghosts of lovers, cigarettes and smiles, the smell of beer in crowded cellar bars, the darkening rooms and shadow time – everything now reaching for this sleepy, soft embrace. The bridges rise in magic shapes of rounding dreams and coming back to where [...]
I wake up from dreams I half remember. All I know is you were there. Some childhood stuff, some broken toys served as background to these songs of need. Where do we go, eyes closed, if not to find some meaning and blind images of hope? I crawled upon a beach, trailing bits of you [...]
Tu es si belle, comme le soleil qui marche dans les rues d’hiver, qui touche la neige et les arbres nus et dormants, qui est là chaque matin, chuchotant à moi: Je suis içi… et je t’attendrai quand tu reviendras à la maison du printemps.
Wolf to your forest, moss to your dreaming of trees – I await, all teeth and all feeling; both wild and tamed – and unreal till you call me. Call me: I’m there to be nothing or breathing. Call me: I’m yours, to live or to drown. All must be yours to decide now: who [...]