DOG-SLEEP

Like a ship ready to sink, my life is bobbing. Above me, it's been bending steadily for almost nine years. Hopelessness's tormenting prison-pocca Of hopelessness bravely raises Golgotha's dikes, And human malice has long since itched My Vendetta's elbows' plague-stricken truth. No friend or help is near or far!

The multitude of my acquaintances, if I remember them half-way, With fair messages make amends for my late meetings. Someone I feel is waiting for me, His sacred golden heart of jingling would give me as a gift; His gazelle-test glides to and fro in my memories, In the embodiments of my imagined dreams, And like a redeeming, caressing caress My ear andalusianly listens to the beating, Tiny, immortal minutes of his beautiful heart.

The draught often whispers to me my dull despairs. The caressing feathers of her velvet-skin, like the caressing wings of an angel, are comfortingly spread upon me - the superstitious one-ness of our whispered eternity, like the channels of our secret telepathy, are injected into each other's conscience. And each moment of Omnipresence drops softly, like a pearl of truth, on my heart.

In our stressed daily life we tear our hairs senselessly, if the deserved pay rise was not guaranteed to us, and the rightful appreciation - who knows when - is long overdue. My dear. I do not know where you are, but I drop my glass globes into the valley of your swan-fine hands, and like a silent, honeyed plea to you my instincts, richly chained, are flowing.