Let's drink, my dear friends
No need to be sober
The thirties began
My twenties are over
Imagine one thing:
I feel I am younger
Since I've got a dream
An’ spiritual hunger
Since I’ve been with you
Let’s drink for it quicker
You are very few
From 'everywhere people'
What I realized -
Try not to forget it:
You think you are nice?
No way –
so much better!

He returned from the backyard
and went back to bed,
his feet still cold from the nocturnal grass.
lighter than the room,
than the grey bitter pillow cases,
were only seams
of the street outside
between the running curtains
and pity
which one shouldn't feel
pity
was reaching for the dark head
that still smelled of tobacco
in the pit in the pillow

Some day, no, not now, later,
after He has returned
all beach balls that had rolled away
all missing dogs, turtles, all kittens, and hedgehogs,
when His rustling Things to do list
calms down in His lap,
subsides, smoothes out --
then
I wish I'd be allowed to stand for a while
next to His shaky chaise longue
to the left, to the right
-- doesn't matter
for I'll would be looking away from Him,
never at.
The chair will squeak quietly, slipping on damp sand.
I'll be squinting at the sunset,
and the sea will be shining with queer gentle light
my hand will slightly touch the cool metal arm
his hem
lashing my bare feet,
his wide sleeve sliding over my wrist.
I won't dare to look
at Him. If I did
I would only see an empty beach chair
with faded striped fabric,
balancing on the narrow sandy ridge,
on that strip, on that crest with dead seaweed
that separates real sand from the pebbles.
How it would dazzle and shine -- metal frame,
tiny sea ripples, and pebbles -- will glow oh so gently so weakly
and the sun will reshape itself endlessly,
flattening,
toying with forms,
lingering,
maybe
never setting.