Where will I be this time next forever?
Making snowmen between my temples.
Waiting for now to lose its pulse
I weave dreams like a lace maker.
The dreams I weave lead to fantasies,
Like a lemon leads to lime.
The constellations add up to mountain ranges
And the darkness in between is an olive grove.
The smell of the barber shop
Makes me taste sea-shells of azure.
The grandmother street makes me forget
I'm a man, for it leads to the honeycomb Cathedral.
I feel I'm living today, as if sleeping;
I believe it, but I am unaware of doing it.
It is impossible to remember sadness
When dreaming of the snow of the next forever!
Adding your comment: