Posted by: bogpan | януари 9, 2018

Horses are tearing in sulphur and volcanoes

The years pass – wings –
the valleys grow
and the picks lose the silhouette clear.

Who’s hitting furiously the horses young,
the sky who has there lit?
Not me! Not me!
Me and you, sat on a short shore
along the path, sunk in myrtles
and we’re looking at the love,
in that endless, brilliant mirror.
And somewhere young girls
are singing a refrain in low voice
and giant woods are losing root.

Horses are tearing in sulphur and volcanoes.
Inside of me – the sea is murmuring.

Brilliant

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Responses

  1. I am stunned by the beauty of love and passion in this poem. That passion…

  2. Ah, dear reader, after these amazing words, I do not know what to say.
    Humbly thank you! You always have my respect!


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