drukowana A5
The Beautiful Melancholy

Bezpłatny fragment - The Beautiful Melancholy

111 str.
za 4.1
drukowana A5
za 22.82

The Beautiful Melancholy

Your light-sensitive words

explore the boundaries

of my soul.

An invincible lie

smothers the most beautiful


I would like to drink from a cup

of your hands, but I have poisoned myself

with darkness.

Silence and fire collide,

painful pleasure teases

the white thin bone of my breath.

Your dreams fit into a single drop

of wax.

Your desires contain the entire past.

The night aches, pregnant stars

peek from below a ceiling.

We will remain here as long as

there is the unrequited loneliness in us.

On the other side of sky

the sad God waits for us.

I look for signs of love in your gaze.

The Forbidden Hearts

There is not the whisper in us

to save the world

from light.

There is no love in us

to hound the forbidden hearts.

I woke up despite

a thunderous applause,

I woke up in the arms

of a fallen man.

Silence is filled with

boundless words.

Night has blossomed in me

so that I may fall asleep by accident.

I do not fear repentance for sins

I have willingly committed.

Please let your nearness be a signpost

for me on a desert island.

The anniversary of our thirtieth death

is approaching.

Before God awakens, let us draw a mark

of the coming apocalypse

on our hearts.

The Black, Proud Wind

Dancing tears wander on

a border between love and pain.

A few extinguished kisses

remain of life.

The kingdom of melancholy

is overflowing, new guests must wait.

Extensive maps, deltas of veins

on dry wrists.

No starry horizons in sight.

I put our passion in my pocket,

colorless lips resting on taut skin.

Though we wait for the next world,

though we resurrect credulous fantasies,

our lives will remain true

to silence.

I wish I could touch the water, but

the weary fire burns within me.

The final death will belong to us.

In us will be reborn the time

that everyone seeks.

The power of tomorrow will not win

against the black, proud wind.

Sad Smiles

A made-up world is not conducive

to cloudy love.

United constellations stare at us

from behind the door

leading to God’s bedroom.

Sad smiles grow within us,

our feet stumble over the edge

of sky.

There is a tree in me

that has grown without complaint.

There is the death in me

for which no name fits.

Is there anyone here to teach me

the human language?

Is there anyone here

who will knock on the door

on my behalf?

Another angel has fallen to Earth,

God has not noticed it.

This mask is becoming uncomfortable.

Let us dance while the dawn lasts.

Let us dance while

the world lives in us.

The Border of Music

The fear walks on tiptoe.

The time is lost behind the border

of music.

The stray angels invite you

to dance, God keeps a low profile.

Before this night sticks its tongue

between bare words,

before the dawn takes care of the

sleepless night,

let us wake up in no one’s memory.

There is no silence in us

that can soothe our starched senses.

I refuse to defy fate.

Puffy green clouds grace our souls.

Souls are black and deaf.

Think before you die on trial.

Think before you are resurrected.

Will we make it to the surface

if we consent to one more sin?

The Painful Caress

I was visited by the day

before yesterday’s dream.

I fed my heart with scraps

of lost feelings.

God is playing hide and seek

with us again, but this time

we are the ones who win.

Angels wear bloodstained robes,

have not brushed their teeth

for a long time,

have neglected their wings.

Naked desires,

withering without a whisper

like a willow at a crossroads,

try to get into

my mangy, soft sleep.

The final, painful caress

slips from between greedy fingers.

There is no love in us,

it is gone along with tomorrow’s myth.

This smile does not look good

on you.

Not to face you with humility

that would bear forbidden fruit.

The last tear sealed

the lost eternity.

Silence returned to sell our thoughts.

Black-eyed Hope

You were born of that light

which you never felt comfortable with.

You have arisen from the silence

that is thinner than the whisper.

You sail backward through

dead wrecks of hurricanes,

through the swirls of millennia.

You look closely at your starched soul,

you count wrinkles

that have covered this face

with a dense web.

Black-eyed hope tries to catch up

with you, but you let yourself

be carried away

by the threadbare wind.

All your senses are against you,

all eyes are on you.

I did not know who you were

since God stripped my soul

from my body.

Stray hearts already know

where to learn love.

This love is not like your dream.

The Edge of the Light

And when the rain begins to fall,

we will all realise

that too much separates us

from the dawn.

When the world is rid of its shroud,

the sky will slip over our unclosed eyelids.

The terrifying morning will end

as usual with the sweetest night.

Disturbed wilderness flashes

through woods,

a stolen constellation rolls between

our lips.

I do not want to die in vain.

I do not want to live

at your command.

I do not want to dream,

even though I got the hiccups.

I stop again at the edge of light.

I look for the firstborn wrinkle

on your forehead.

Time bites at my heart.

The borrowed sunset has long failed to understand

my unborn dreams.

From behind the curtain of pain

looks my ragged soul.

The Thorny Shadow

My best dream died silently.

As long as I dream of

inaccessible forests,

I will not stop loving my enemies.

Savage eras are fleeing

from me.

The stolen light still illuminates

the wayward silence in which

I hide my naked memories.

Its high time to take a breath,

even though your lungs are refusing

to obey.

I hid snow in my hands to feed

borrowed desires.

Unfinished roads invariably lead to

my unnamed love.

God waits politely before we go to sleep

once and for all.

I do not know where to look for

forbidden nights.

I do not know where my borrowed story

got to.

I have been wandering among

the constellations for a long time,

I wander from door to door,

but the light will not go out.

I kindle the thorny shadow in you,

but my soul is hurting me.

There is no such love

that we would like to say goodbye to.

The Carnivorous Flowers

Carnivorous flowers of words.

Damn thoughts under

hair roots.

I did not want to tear your lungs

or that eaten heart.

Time of the birth of light

is inevitably drawing near,

the hour as promiscuous as

first-born snow.

I would love to be resurrected,

but my fears have wandered

off somewhere.

Please do not promise me

unknown skies, black blood blooms

in the fists of my pupils.

I cannot wait to capture my soul,

broken wings will not be hurt.

There is no faith in us,

faith as thin as the bone between teeth.

Teach me to live little by little,

without the truth.

Yesterday’s love stuck

in my veins, the imagined desert

island sank.

Our tears are rolling, unfinished tears,

wasted tears.

Another Sun rose accidentally,

the last bird fell off sky.

Conscience, cut in half, is merely the black flower

in an empty cradle.

We are all at the head of this world

that is dying without the last rites.

Come to share your body

with me.

The wisdom of mornings

does not end with love.

There is still a cosmos

that the Creator does not know.

Nobody’s Faith

The silence that makes you

unable to breathe.

A black slice of nobody’s faith

that you wear around your neck

like a medallion.

Through black alleys

flow unknown eras, the lost millennia.

Forbidden truths swirl.

Unborn lies climb the heart

to the peak of hatred,

from where they fall straight into

the throat of the Moon.

Do not make me confess

in your language.

I have not known for a long time

where the footsteps of God lead,

where the source of your squalid memory is.

I dance without the moment’s rest.

I dance though

I have no sense of rhythm,

though the last exclamation mark

has fallen from your lips.

It is enough if you let me see

myself in your freshly washed shadow.

Unfinished Dream

There is no pain to help us

get out of the shackles

God has put on our thoughts.

There is no music in our souls

to soothe the light.

I defend myself from happiness,

I defend myself from the body

I have left of you.

I disguise myself in skin

so no one will accidentally see my heart,

which is immature

despite the late autumn.

Against this winter,

apple trees have blossomed,

we have been deprived of

the beauty that the Lord has hidden

in our eyes.

Snow dies in our hands,

the Sun turns its face away.

Since the last star has fallen into the abyss,

I have no interest in life.

Since colourless dreams

crowd at the door,

it is high time to open the window.

I am heartily afraid

whether God will be late this time too.

Another unfinished dream

has fallen from the top

of my soul.

I know it is worth dancing one more time.

The Face of the Sun

I am left with a memory of you,

crumpled like a candy wrapper.

The face of the Sun

is streaked with tears,

the Moon is late for work

once again because it heartily hates

its employer.

We are united by suffering,

suffering heavier than a shadow

that the cross casts.

Lord, why were we all born in hell?

Why did our immortality end

at the very beginning?

God spreads his hands, I do not think

he speaks my language.

Will we find enough faith

in ourselves to say goodbye

without complaint?

Capricious are these indigenous stars.

Please teach me to speak of love,

though I have long refused to believe

in hate.

Innocence blooms on

the graves here.

A Kiss of Hostile Lips

Breath-weary bodies rest

at the door of God’s bedroom.

The head is crowded with thoughts

that someone has caught

in the act.

The conscience aches from an excess

of tears.

Feed me with your fat blood.

Stand at the gates

of the world from where you can see

burnt cities, metropolises bathed in

their blood and tears,

where man pretends to be God.

I am afraid of the words

I have left of you.

I wish I could die a trial,

but time has faded.

Do not worry, the times will return

when souls were in abundance.

Time to seal love with a kiss

of hostile lips.

The ardent arms try to sniff out

a shred of compassion.

I promise I will wake up before

you are resurrected.

I vow to bring a sparkle to your eyes.

Like the Glow

The horizon smells like the glow

that is hopeful

and moist with tears.

The light that gives birth

to a thorny shadow,

the shadow engulfing reality.

The source flourishes in the midst of

full-blooded emotions.

Our pain feeds tired dreams.

The emerald fiery silence of your gaze

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za 4.1
drukowana A5
za 22.82