Midnightly

Speak to me in a foreign language,

hidden alphabet,

have mysterious formulas

instead of a greeting,

I will recognize you again.

By the silence

I sense your soul.

My verses do not have meaning,

if you do not immerse them at night on a New moon

in lake water after a storm,

while fragile dreams creak.

Write mercy to the dust.

Play the last dance,

lone trumpet,

the hell of the piano

and the cello that persistently proves

that a-moll hurts, but d-moll has

its own stories of remorse,

I will recognize you again,

I remember your music

in the eyes.

There is no sound between us except a sigh.

Sometimes there are nights without you

and all the loneliness like the world of Atlas,

lies on your shoulders.

Breathe!

This one – ours, call it love or mistake,

has its traces in the Hell,

no matter how much the Heaven is its destination.

Clean the old books of dust,

pressed flowers

will smell of us in the spring.

There is no space between us

except at the wrong time.

In how many dimensions do you fall asleep,

if you wake up next to me?