Night Beaches

The lower rocks - a statue of a bat,
in whose lap the lighthouse remembers
the stranded ship in the shallows
that turns into a rescue light
for a cry that serves future catastrophes
of unceasing courage.
On both sides - dark sands with mollusc breasts,
where boats have fun in safety
on the night beaches.
You are here,
water bursts into the holds of the heart
and how will you preserve your voice
over the underwater life, an echo in the surf,
the image of a struggle with thinning ropes,
the image of two thin braids in the hair with a copper-red glow
the girl who hopes to save herself by swimming
in the lunar tide.
The lighthouse flashing against the night:

the warning is forever.

The signal that sticks to the horizon

and pursues the oblivion of fear,
the intoxication of the sand under the bodies of expired love,
dunes of saturated winds -
only this signal:

the warning is forever.

You thought it was possible
the renewal of the harbour frivolity in the chest,
repainting tattoos on faded skin,
the secret exchange of the parrot, who lost his voice out of loneliness
with a new bird -
to strengthen your yesterday's voice with everlasting juvenile words.
Look, the lighthouse warned you in the fog:

the warning is forever.

Opposite the ladder, propped against the peach tree,
the shells of Palaeolithic cold,
against the darkened calves,
waded into the mineral spring with the instinct of an ancient Thracian,
against the two braids in the hair, streaks of red copper -
the ravaging of the night beaches.
And the signal is the same:
eternal warning
from one life to the other,
from one shore to hope.
You saw it
with eyes corroded from the salty drops,
this signal
in harm of nightly beaches, at the sea.