adriana baxan

This year an acrostic of beauty the perfume engrained in my soul my eagerness to fly my never-ending love song.

I embrace the relentless winter storm, I cradle the snow on the ground's regalia and I slide slowly into the white kingdom of the shrouded whispers where the sands have no name, where the urns of

The sky runs through my veins like a dance on a glittering lace, like a question without answer about you and me, like an orchard that blooms every day. The thought of you makes me

I wag blindly your wet contours, I stir the powder of your sleepy eyes in the cup of this crystal morning, I touch your skin wrapped in an Undine's veil, the dawn turns blue like the silky garment of

My chagrin is a fortress, a love letter, a silent moonlight. My elegy for the debris of your scent is written in the sky where the moon shines like a white topaz. The curtains of the night are my

Mes pas se perdent dans l'eau d'une neige révélée; je me balade dans le règne des couleurs de tes photos et je suis encore ta larme au coin d'un tableau oublié, ton errance dans le parfum d'un nadir

The plot reveals the stories of three women who are depicted in three distinct decades; the intrigue presents one day of their lives in front of the mirror of consciousness. The leading figures are

Je caresse la sierra d'étoiles de la nuit et je pense aux jours heureux d'antan, j'écris mes notes séquentielles en noir et blanc dans la chambre vide de cet automne, dans l'air d'or, sur les ailes

I caress the night thinking of you, write my sequential black and white notes in the empty room of this fall, in the golden air, on the tender velvety wings of a lonely zephyr. I listen to the

My hands look for the clear waters of my white mirror, painting a piano, a gold light to find you again beyond the rays of the river of dreams, to slither in the colours of another day, the next day

My hands in cold silk get the nuance of the telluric lights, the harmony of the opalescent sierra of clouds reflected in the sea shells; everything is here, on the unswerving shore immersed in a

The volutes of dreams of this season, the incessant nostalgia of a solemn sun written in a fleeting sky, the road and its limpid steps, the music on this highway of transparent colours, my lashes in

Lost in the shades of a pale magnolia at the time of anthesis, crimson lakes draw the contour of my lips with deep notes of salt, tears and moon. And the air of our sequenced season paints white

The summer that perfumes the mountain fairies every day, the crest of the wheat that adorns the valleys, the sintony of the veils of the white waters, you, the shade of an endless