7 02 2019

All of my recent self… these words, these worlds, these feelings,

all of my joys, my longings, and my strives,

all of these shiny trifles that comprised my settled life, –

„so are they all! all honourable…“ things…


all this that seemed to stay, to everlast,

bled white with ink, bleached out and withered.

The spirals of my tired spine unweaving:

If everything goes, why, then my life has passed.


And everything I dreamt I felt or had

Was neither carved in stone nor sealed by action,

`t was never mine, not ever, since its inception,

´t was just a mere illusion in the Mirror of Erised.



22 01 2019

I saw past the obvious.

Past all the traffic lights,

Screaming red,

throwing their desperate glances

across my way and into my face.


I saw past those tiny symptoms of overload,

of the ever-growing loneliness,

eternal existential alone-ness,

being lost between the lines of being kind,

nice, understanding, caring,

between the peacekeeping and appeasement.


I saw and felt all of it coming,

all of insomnia,

neck-ache, skin oversensitivity,

drawback, overreaction and bodily numbness.

I knew it all, and yet I saw past it,

How I wished to be blind!

And now it all passed…

Talking of Tennyson: Transience

5 11 2018
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
(In Memorian A.H.H., 54)
And so I walk across the sites
Of past and present intertwined,
Caleidoscope of shapes and lines,
These labyrinths of shade and light.
These labyrinths of day and night,
These human passions carved in stone,
They laught at you before they´re gone
And burst and burn as they collide.
They burst and perish – ask not, why.
Scattered across the shingles ashore,
One may not ask nor hope for more.
Nor will, nor soul, nor mind survive.
The Sense is conceal´d. Behind the veil –
And what am I to disobey:
All of them, all, who dreamt and prayed,
They all have passed! And so will we…

Let my voice sound…

22 10 2018

Let my voice sound,

as it never did before,

sing, sing,

sing like a dreamy madman,

cheerful, calm and blessedly hopeless,

smiling to the invisible universe,

multiple realities of one´s heart,

smiling back,

Sounding back,

Resonating …


Let my voice flow,

break the damm of my choking silence,

of my terror to call things

by their names,

real and utmost,

Endlessly fascinating….

Let it break out of the hoarseness

and whisper

and this throat,

so soar of yearning to speak out,

yearning to yell,

to dwell,

to sing,

to pray,

to call out your name?

take your tristesse and go…

15 10 2018

Take your tristesse and go.

Carry it, day and night,

hide it so deep inside,

deeper and deeper in thee.

Past all those bravorous lies,

well-rehearsed, as-if-careless smiles,

speechless and shy

in that bottomless pit of your soul,

where only one pair of eyes

reaches to see.


Take this without-ness and go.

Do not inquire why.

Nobody knows.

It just happened.

Your quiet rags of light

Fitted so perfectly right.

Force yourself to be happy.

For you have not a brink of right

to may hope for anything better.


our rags of light…

1 10 2018

Puzzling and humbling:

living them through,

these stolen moments of peace,

of sacred shared-ness

amongst the daily roam.

These tiny emeralds of easiness,

of unexpected fun

of being

simply me


simply you.

Cheerful recognition

of those

rags of light

smiling back in the eyes of the other.



Простите (Forgive me)

17 09 2018

English version follows bellow 


Простите, что я такая…

Странная? –



Знаю, со мной трудно:

Я живу по небу известному календарю и кодексу.

Говорю – когда не нужно;

Молчу – когда следовало бы говорить;

Глуха – когда надо слышать

И слышу несуществующее.

Влюблена в образы,

ушедшие или просто выдуманные.

Моя голова – большая свалка,

И я мешаю сплетни с экзистенциализмом.

Наверное, предаю и первое, и второе…


Нет черного и белого,

И потому,


я дальтоник, когда речь идёт о людях.

Я люблю и ненавижу как-то ненормально…

Глубоко? –





Я бы много отдала,


просто быть не помешанной.

Почти столько же,

Сколько отдам, за то

Чтобы помешанной остаться.


Просто знайте.

Просто или сложно,

Крича или без слов,

Не вовремя уходя и возвращаясь,

Я так люблю вас!..



Forgive me for what I am…

Creepy? – 

I guess…

I know, it is not easy with me:

For I live according to God knows what calendar and code.

I speak when one shouldn’t,

I am silent, when one should speak;

I am deaf, when one must hear

And I hear the non-existent. 

I am in love with images

That passed or never existed. 

My head is a huge landfill,

And so I mix gossips and existentialism,

Betraying them both, perhaps…

There is no black, nor white.

That might be the reason, 

Why I am so colour-blind about people. 

I love and hate somehow out of norm…

Deeply? –

So deeply!

And irrationally.

I am so sorry. 

I would give much

for not being that lunatic. 

Almost as much,

As I would give 

For the right to stay as mad, as now. 

You just should know – 

In easy or complex way,

Shouting or keeping quiet,

Leaving or coming back so untimely,

I still love you all so much!