In hurry to meet you
I'm a centipede
And then
I put a thousand of centipede flowers in my haver sack
and a pen of your light brown eyes.
I have two holes of ink - my eyes -
filled with my melted pupils ; made by the separation sadness
and a thousand of worries in my heart.
Once again I'm late,
the chalk of your sclera ;
Wrote the translation of
God and Love
and
Sun and Heaven
on the board of stone
The ink in my eye holes had gone by flood of tears.
I hurt my fingertips by the sickle of the morning moon
Now my eyes hole is full of ****** tears - absolutely red
: «o dear!
Would you please translate
God and Love
and
Sun and Heaven
again?!»
And I write this quadruple with the pen of your
Light brown eyes
and the ink of ****** tears
on a thousand of centipede flowers.

O love O impatience of the heart
Oh dreamy vortex
Spend a moment on my lips
O sweet poison of God

O love , O world's intoxication
O soul of a bartender, wine and intoxication
O cause of human creation
O the cause of glorification and degradation

O love, O dream of drunkards
O king of the hearts of the perplexed
Open your arms to me
You are the language of silent's eyes

Fly to me tonight, O love
Tonight that I dreamed of you
One day you will come to me
One day that I slept in the grave

For years, I enjoyed so foolish,
keeping the lawn tidy as per my wish

It took decades before I could twig
this is not the scent of cut grass and stylish trees

It is a twinge of pain rising from the grass and twigs

Dearer than my soul, I have been without you for months,
I mean craze,
I mean selfless,
I mean no heart,in my chest ,
I mean in vain from all sides to vastness,
I am rootless , derelictus, astonished,
the trace of the demise in universe . I mean the separation of us.

Inquisitions have been reactivated,
only their decoration
has been modernized.
Let's not forget Giordano Bruno and what he said at the last minute:
"Perhaps you who pronounce my sentence are in greater fear than I who receive it."

Poetry and translating in a world of horror and panic
Is like simulating the music on drowning Titanic

Arisen flame of love;
the decree of fate
over the darkness of hate.
White doves of peace flying over the kingdom of ease

Nest
World of pleasure

Gone
Chest of treasure

Mood
Bold of pressure