Sonata for the oboe and piano

sonata for the oboe and piano

like a bird do I pass through life’s circle

someone- a remorse, maybe

running after my shadow- a hungry clucking hen picking the minutes from the dial

quicklier, quicklier

it may, by passing, reach me

the images of some trivial picture staying behind…

cigarette smoke

hasty profiles

tossing about… memories, mixing ground prayal.

the violinist lady turning the page…

*

passages

the silence peel covers muddy ways

the colours of forgiveness flowing with angel whispers,

thought flight

in the wonder scales they ask for mercy

the scaffold knife is stuck at its half

between life and death

the witnesses and judges are looking behind the lattices

who considers himself free

that may throw the stones…!

caught between the traffic signs, that forbide the station

the oboe punctions the pain sincope.

is it worth reliving?

who knows, maybe in another context, it may have a different colour, a different smell, a different look.

*

the percutionist striking the bells…

from behind the fence you can hear the life scream – unbound by desires

louder and louder, it strikes in the torace.

other births struggling in the light snowfalls

other spreading of strives on the slopes

the desperate fear

is catching the window frame

drawing a circle on the window eternal steps towards the island in the middle of the sun,

the clucking hen charming away

this time I am not afraid of the darkness!

I am free!