Speaking In Tongues
Scribbling In Voices


Forgotten Thought Is a Lost Pen

Dissidence Mood

Fabric of Love

Jigsaw Puzzle

Dear Friend, We've Been Living Too Fast

* * *

Forgotten thought is a lost pen,

Though nobody will find it and write

In the light of a lonely candle when

A lazy moon travels through the night.

Forgotten music is the first snow

That easily melts hardly touching the ground,

And only the wind still reluctant to blow

Cuddles soft snowflakes dancing around.

Forgotten love is the precaurious Fall,

Painted in shades of faded brown,

A song of the Neverland hard to recall,

A Queen of gold in a rusty crown.


I don't wanna stay

In this tricky game

When the stage is aflame

But the actors play.

I would rather leave

By a midnight train

Smelling of champaigne

On the New Year's Eve.

I will wake up late

Where there's no trace

Of the play I hate

And that vicious place.

And my joy and my grief

Drawn by hoarfrost

On a palm-like leaf

That the autumn has lost

Will be swept away

By the winds of fate

But my soul will stay

To reincarnate.


It will slip through your fingers

Like a tender silk string,

Like a rainbow that mingles

On a butterfly wing.

Through a velvet sensation

Of an innocent kiss

It will reach destination

On a shoulder of peace.


It takes so long to cut the rope,

But if you do it, on your way

You may pick up fragments of hope

Dropped to the pavement of the day.

A jigsaw puzzle, crystal clear,

Reflecting your distorted face.

What kind of picture will appear

When the last piece fits in its place?

What kind of an unfriendly vision

Will break into your life en route?

One piece is lost and your decision

Is justifiably astute.

* * *

Dear friend, we've been living too fast

Many alien lives bypassing

To be crumpled and ruthlessly cast

Into street garbage cans all for nothing.

No trace. No sign. In the air

There's a flavour of burning letters.

There's so little left for to care,

So painfully little that matters.

Sparkling galaxy of falling snow

Melting silently in the air

Will remind us of a Christmas Show

And a nice friendly chat over Ballais.

Off we go. No need to be sorry

For the theories falling apart. . .

Sloppy lines in the end of a story

Unmistakably cited by heart.