Snippets from a vase
Silver shadow,
the moon in splendor,'
a breeze started, the air stilled.
What is it i hear
like a longing, a voice of love, unheard, heard!
Like the thought that wanders in a fakir's mind!
The moon shone
from the
infinite sky
I could be myself a lunatic,
a transfer personality
In the concert of stars I could hear
a single voice
the voice of the distant moon
a mirage ,
celestial notes drowned
all sounds,
submerged..
Inebriate
the night opens an eye
I sink in a depth
or am I rising on the wave?
Lunacy .... a desirable desire
The future of an illusion
and we are all responsible
The roles
we have assumed
from the beginning
in each eye
and in all together
This - a delusion continues
between the two forms
of time, real and unreal
... And the moon shone greater degree than ever
O cloud, come soft,
rain without a thunder.
Rain on cracks in the soil;
rain and heal the scars
There is a smile
on the moon's visage. Holding on to a cloud
is not as difficult as was thought.
Ethereal wings could be as real
as feet planted firmly on earth.
Moon and sun cover indulgently
... And the moon looked kinder to their game, absurd and childish
Then let the moon and the sun
hear and answer the need,
let me lie covered
under their indulgence,
warm , more real than the real
The dark clouds are pleased;
Lunacy is dear to all.
All dreams are born of lunacy,
All art, all prayers ,
all divinity,
what is it all, if not a supreme lunacy?
There is something beyond which gives us strength
It is beyond the parameters of lunacy and sanity
O ... what's this crazy, beautiful thing, but also dangerous.
O ... dreaming, dreaming sweet, what would the world be without you?
A place harrowing, pathetic and petty.
How charming her life under the rule of this wonderful madness ...
O... love, sublime love, the universe would be without you
a huge desert, a big nothing, a vacuum forever.
O ... life, amazing life, would be dead without you.
A prisoner of his own harangues, devouring the words and meaning.
... And the moon looked thoughtful, with all the understanding, kneading of thoughts,
and infirmities of men, encouraging them to madness and dreaming.
Art's divine; and everything comes from there; we'll go back there, only if we deserve, only if we reached the goal, only if we sent the right message.
If not, then we are doomed to start over in another life (in another's life), until we learn to be those beings, pure, full of love for which we were created / S.
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