Do find me, happiness...

Do find me, happiness, when silver rain cleans my soul of frayed and solitary dreams that lost their wings those times they let themselves kissed by barren words and portraits. Cover their frail ribs with sun bands and in the endless night cure their tired eyes with blaze of sunrise. Collect the pieces scattered through instants and whispers sold to deceit and pour life in the cells frozen by so many winters. Pick them up from the bitter sweet wound of oblivion and throw them again in the infinite, make them promise they will revive harsher, higher, they will run through my veins until the dawn of my soul. Do find me, happiness, when stardust snows my barefeet, when rays of copper and fire elapse through my numb fingers and feed a sea and a rainbow to splash in my palms. Light my windows with unwhispered yearnings, let them drink from my thirst of skin and sky. Caress my eyes unable to hear the sparkles and smiles and let me live again out of feelings that melt bones and thoughts. Do find me, happiness, when I'm no longer able to call for you...

Flori-de-colt

Isi apasa palma moale peste mica floare-de-colt desenata pe matasea delicata a rochiei de vara si-i papaie petalele pufoase asemenea norilor albi de care s-a ascuns aici, printre copacii scrijeliti de ierni si soapte desirate. Talpile bolnave de vise jertfite pe carari ascutite isi scalda durerea in iarba rece si tamaduitoare, plangandu-si crestaturile sangerande ce si-au intors marginile spre trup si varsa sub piele deznadejdea si sila de viata. Isi pleaca obrazul pe pamantul sarat de sufletul obosit si stingher ce i s-a scurs pe chip si genele se zbat intr-un dans amarnic dorindu-si sa amorteasca, sa nu mai vada. Dar buzele uscate inca mai simt cuvintele otravite ce le-au biciuit si le-au intinat si trupul inca palpita in acordurile chitarei ce-si mangaie corzile undeva departe, nestiind ca aici minciuna cea cumplita osandeste la tristete si apoi la desertaciune. Isi plimba degetele infiorate peste tesatura fina si florile rasar aprige si splendide sub fiecare atingere, izbucnind printre fibre. Acum au culoarea asfintitului ce-i vibreaza in fiecare celula si spuma lor laptoasa devine purpura si vapaie, ademenind mugurii plapanzi si mistuindu-le aripile. Se taraste pe stancile sidefate spre chitara ce-si tanguie chemarea tot mai departe, prea departe. Ar vrea sa danseze o ultima oara, sa simta inima batandu-i navalnic cu fiecare miscare si talpile frematand de ritmul violent si dulce. Dar trupul nu o mai asculta, caci poarta cu sine radacini mai grele decat timpul.