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Utopia

 

 

 

Everything is different, in the horison the Sun is crumbled 

The crumbles remained on the earth’s heart like triumphant arrows.

 

We can’t recognise the colors through the wind caressing the memory

We do not read poetry in the universe of fullishness

Where relations between darkness and light

Appear just like relations between the wall and thought.

 

Behind is played the surprising game, just like before

Birds are falling in the ground, just like in times when hell was written,

Oh God, everything has changed,

At a time when a small fence is darkening our our big eyes.

 

The moon finds a path through nummy hands remaining like arrows towards the sky

And the sun dissolving just like a candle through tired eyes

Who can’t see anything in the blue sky, except a small cloud

A cloud darkening everything 

 

Therefore vision is coiled in space

Just like the wind creating its avalanche

Then many faces appear.

At a night, when everything is different,

Containing inside the borders within your head

When you feet walk through illusions

And sqweeze their bad dreams

For the time that isn’t, for the time that wasn’t

For the time that will not come

For the time that goes with the wind.

Utopia struggling against reality

Her dreams hidding at the corner of secrets

Are swallowed.

 

Beauty is high, between earth and sky

                                         Me and you.

A brain with mixed thoughts,

Is like the great homesickness with rare truths

Hidding below a dense grass, wetted grass.

Beauty is high, between earth and sky

                                         Me and you.

 

Where the truth falls,

Just like tall oak trees from the storm

 

That’s how the path is lost from darkness and gates are invisible

In the sacred city.

 

Time prohibits to reveal the true face

In the great garden, where all fruits, all flowers, are planted, 

Altogether with pain with love.

 

Deserves happyness

Yes, the miracle of happyness.

 

Your glimpse is vigorous,

And your eyes have turned into dry creeks.

 

The beauty is high, between earth and sky

                                                 Me and you.

Oh, how brown is the soil and trees have absorbed the soil’s color.

Except happyness is a tree with juicy fruits

In the garden where a dense grass hides our feet.