Your tears are not your own
They come from the paths you left
As a wind from the salt plains of sorrows
It follows you to the place
With nights of half finished glasses
Where silence from empty bottles flow.
Your happiness is not your own
They come from the smiles you spread,
The clock of yesterday is dead
And a new one born at every night
With new sorrows and new smiles.
Your songs are from the sparrow’s heart
When they see rain on their doorsteps
What we call our own..
If we look again is not ours any more
In one day we bloom like a flower
One day flow like a wind..
I have wandered in cloudless paths
Trying to find an answer,
Only to be awakened later ,by
The seeds of misery –hidden in love
In my lust..in my passion..
The sweetness of fruits comes from
The hot summers of hunger
The emptiness of words comes from
Loud voices I hear
We collect things...we collect thoughts
We collect memories…we collect words
Our world gets filled.. we are possessed
Into this possessiveness..Into this sorrows
Where can we go on…on old paths
White clouds… dreamless sorrows..in trance…
