Trafika Europe 2 - Polish Nocturne
I walk the valley of green and silent dreams where a black moon renders every shadow brown. My twenty-nine years are just a giddy game. I go on – shivering, wounded by light, and I invent anew my own small world; free will and desire: to live, like seagulls, rather it is passion which follows me down. Harsh winter pervades even the autumn in me, my path – a faded crow now – thrones my head, while my heart worships its muse once again; the Body and Soul Universe of Poetry. I’m young, my life has been but fancy, and I wait for night-darkness, somewhere among oaks mutely, like large dreams witnessing the moon.
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