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Poems

THE SUN KISSES THE EARTH

 

The sun kisses the earth.

Its every ray

penetrates to the essence.

The hidden roots

awaken

to new life.

 

This is the way

we continuously are born

and die

and go beyond.

 

 

 

THE SPRINGTIME SHOWER

 

The Springtime shower

falls warm and silent

fermenting

the pungent smells

of drenched soil

and blossoms

brimming with rainwater

as they bloom.

 

Three black slugs

cross my path.

 

I leap

and greet the rainbow.

The magic takes effect.

Summer is now within reach.

 

 

 

IN THE INTIMACY OF THE FOREST

 

In the intimacy of the forest

the pale oval

of a woman’s face

gently rests on a man’s forehead.

Beneath the reflected colours

of the forest in Summer,

flooded with light, flowing lymph

and inebriating perfume,

they are united.

In the midst of the greenness

they search for blue;

while minute shadows

inevitably mark

the passing of time.

 

 

 

LANDSCAPE SEEN FROM ABOVE

 

Dreaming of flight

over deep, endless waters.

Sea water

and river water

of blue-green

beneath my hawk’s eye

meet and become one.

From this viewpoint

the mainland

frames

the eternal flow

in which

the doors of the sky,

pink-hued,

are mirrored.

 

 

 

AWAITING THE SUNRISE

 

Awaiting the sunrise

the morning light

rises from the sea

and paints the sky rose.

 

The sun takes command

from the tired moon

while the grass,

still wet,

awakes and reaches

to meet the day.

 

 

 

MUSIC

 

Music

music from a flute

melancholy and sweet

rises and falls

between white curtains

and climbing rose bushes,

becoming one with the night.

 

The filtered light

of a midsummer night

is reflected by white stones.

Below, water flows on;

above, the sky is filled with stars.

 

 

 

BY CÉZANNE

 

Crystalline air

surrounds stylized trees

that reach toward the sky.

Cézanne has already been here

in this place in Provence

composed of blue and green

red, yellow and more.

He left many traces here.

Such as his famous group of women.

Women bathers

blondes, red-heads and brunettes

all joyfully suspended

caught up in the dance

half-way between the depths of the sea

and the searing light

of a fiery sun.

And his apples –

those apples,

small and insignificant

but so powerful in the midst of bottles,

laid on bed linen,

rough and heavy.

His apples

are the essence of art.

 

 

 

TO REVEAL ONE’S SOUL

 

To reveal one’s soul

to delicately

remove the veils

that routine

has made us assume

to be imperative

to our daily

survival.

 

To remove

those protecting veils

and finally feel alive.

 

 

 

THE SEA

 

The sea breeze

caresses us both

as we move among the breakers;

it plays on our bodies

as if they were Aeolian harps,

red and dry, exposed

to the beating sun

of the Mediterranean.

Below, our bare feet

sense the undertow:

the marine current

would have us elsewhere.

Your gaze

strains to dominate

the lurching waves.

Shall you succeed?

Sometimes

but sometimes not!

Surrounded by such fury

my hand

reaches out for yours;

they meet

in the midst of the supernatural force

of the sea’s demonic thrall.

 

 

 

LOVERS

 

Lovers tell each other

so many tender things.

They search them out

in their hearts.

They clean and polish their words

as if they were diamonds.

They observe them under the light

to check their purity

and they exchange them

like precious gifts.

 

The utterings of love warm us;

even those who normally suffer from chills

in such moments

remove their jackets.

 

So much sincerity is exchanged,

and emotions are translated into words;

bodies draw nearer;

eyes seek each other out,

and voices tremble

out of joy

and out of pain.

 

The instant is sublime.

The surrounding space vibrates

in its absolute fullness.

 

 

 

MY LOVE

 

A smile,

this is my love.

A smile that warms me.

Those eyes,

this is my love.

Those eyes

set on me

in search of me

coming toward me.

A heartfelt embrace

in an otherwise grey day.

 

For a while

we are together.

 

 

 

AN OLD SAYING

 

According to an old saying,

flowers bloom

on dead branches.

In the same way

the flower of our love

budded in Autumn,

surrounded by red leaves

and the rain

greeted us

though no longer in our youth,

and the bud blossomed

in the heart of Winter

and grew and grew

until it was robust

in the Springtime air.

 

The coming Summer

will be rich

with fruits and berries.