Sunday, July 1, 2018




Early in the morning
An old woman rummages
In the garbage with a long stick.
Her stick is as long as a human life.
She is looking for something
That will bring her happiness.

Maybe there is something
Among the things she sees
Unwanted ,unloved
And useless to anyone
- Such as herself.

Together they are able to
Take comfort and survive
Another day
In a world where
There is no place for them


Indifference has
Eyes of stone and an
Unaffectionate heart,
Which beats rhythmically…
I only I - I only I.

It is better not to see
And not to sympathize.
Poverty is ugly,
Foul and fetid,
And sometimes drunk.

The easiest thing is to pass it by
And think
- It is not my business
- I have no time


They chose a homeless freedom.
Set instinctively to survive they live for today.
They know all the dark secrets of the city.

In the evenings, they fall like birds onto the park benches
To spend the night in the company of stars.
In the morning,
They leave the baggage of old newspapers  and wander on.

It is never too late, or too early
-The days are too similar to be afraid of anything.

Those of us, who live hurriedly and hygienically,
Pass them with revulsion and a feeling of superiority.
With dignity, we tote around stereotypes
and the day’s routine.

We hurry along other paths of life.
Sometimes, we collide - we stop pensive
Over diversity of human stories.


I looked deeply into the eyes of a beggar
And they told me his story.

The book of life is not closed.
It describes mistakes and failures at the beginning,
Then the monotonous days,
Struggling to survive in a hostile world.

The streets are like a swamp
They draw in and do not let go.
They promise nothing.
They provide only rarely.

He must drift on the surface of existence
On a raft built from old cartons.

Rushing cars honk loudly.
Passers-by mutter disapprovingly.
Only sometimes, someone
Throws a few coins into the tin box.


It is a pity that I cannot buy a new soul.
In supermarkets, there are no special offers
- New Soul! On sale!

The old one is dysfunctional.

It is much easier to have a simple vision of the world.
Keep your feet on the ground and don’t have dreams.

Being greedy protects the heart.
Life has a physical dimension. Ideals hurt.

Gain a prominent place in the rat race,
Dispose of sentiments, tears.

My soul is able to forgive.
It cannot learn to trust again.

It says it does not enter the same river twice.
Unreasonable? Perhaps. -

It does not listen to reason.
It pulls away from people


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