Trafika Europe 6 - Arabesque

lyrics & poems

My mother is lying It is with no lungs It is with no cries It is with no throat It is with no body. She is lying She isn’t looking She is floating around me She keeps her old hands occupied in the kitchen She is making the bread As one’s making a lie With care Expertise of twenty years ago Expertise of always The ingredients, she is not measuring The recipe, she knows by heart A fresh bread roll and a lie is inside She’s calling me and I’m coming there My mother, I’m looking at her Her face still so youthful Her unbound hair dyed with care She’s calling me and I’m coming there Her belly’s bent over the sink I am right near I am just behind I cannot hear her I cannot hear her…breathing Then I’m plunging my eyes into her neck A voice from me’s crying against us I’m plunging my eyes into her pulse A voice from me’s crying against the cough.

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