BARBARA MAZURKIEWICZ
WHEN THE TIME OF RUSSET TOUCHES US
Pac, pac -
the last crumbs of summer are
falling tenderly.
Between here and there, the country
/ images fade.
I'm full of inspiration -
until the last stanza.
Autumn is sweet,
it smells of shadow and dried
plums.
Mists, like leaves fall softly on
the grass.
I'm silent, my breath is listening
in the ground -
sketching the next hour.
Something is dying, it is muddling
speech and streams.
Now I know, I love the most
what I lose forever.
UPSTREAM
I am only a passenger of the moment
given to me -
it ends and falls apart.
Like a butterfly, I drift in the
arms of the wind -
if I do not fall into the abyss, I
will learn to fly.
Colors are blurred,
the decades they have been leaving
in
post-image images.
MORE AND MORE STRANGERS
It's hard to be someone else -
it's just a game, but it's coming.
Abandonment is worse than exile -
I am like barren land from fallow
land.
You wanted to free yourself from
ballast yourself
common hours.
You hung between two shores,
when the sky became impoverished
for our signs.
A space of silence is defined -
would like to be found
at least one letter worthy of the
topic.
You can hear the painful crack of
the pen.
TABLET TO DREAM
I have my sky,
I would like you to give.
My eyes azure glow.
Sleep feverish breath.
Because I pray to the Lord
With that I would not advise you.
When scared to sleep
The longing.
I'm still the same,
Although the worlds are new,
Let me tell you even today
Good night Buona notte Comrade
Laya.
ROSE BATHED IN RAIN
I liked autumn for four years -
there were to be more and more of
them.
You promised to sleep with me
with each night to be closer and
more.
I'm dancing again at the bottom of
the cup -
I lose my eyelashes trying to stand
on them.
Vague vision in the distance - gray
somehow.
Once again, I emerge from fantasy.
Nothing brings you closer like the
stars -
only they do not fall into the
gutter.
I'm not a flower one night
and it's hard for me to believe
another fairy tale.
BARBARA MAZURKIEWICZ
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