By Over illusions
From the shallows of the depths,
from the edges of the circle,
from the roughness of the smooth water,
from the invisible forms of the obvious,
shall I sift out the truth?
Shall I step on air bridges again?
Shall I touch disembodied silhouettes?
Shall I indulge in fleeting delusions,
of transparent promises,
of weightless weights,
of full of nothing volumes?
Or shall I still step on the ground?
-Dessy Tsvetkova
What is it
Incredibly trivial fabrications and visions,
dressed in a colorless inflorescence,
the bizarre whims of the illusionists.
Stunning windless messages, nonsense,
and tricks of professionals.
And camouflage decor, colorful,
and the curtain that opened slightly exceptional,
whether it is an illusion or truth, thoughtful,
or a master magician,
enchants us from afar.
Or it is the poetry, like a white fairy,
paints images, and wizards, cherishing.
Love is the cure
In vain the wind stretches out long palms,
he cannot touch the sun.
And then furious,
muddy storms uncalms,
whirlwinds over questions he turns…
The rain is coming,
to quench his anger,
to cover it all with purifying water.
Finally comes the perfect rainbow,
and the wind falls in love with her …
silence in the quarter…
-Dessy Tsvetkova, Bulgaria
Loving fireflies
sharing all the joy…
Summer nights,
splendid tenderness of Eden…
Careless sunsets
of caressing sky gloy,
soul enlightened by the heaven…
Chanted warming blessings.
Crickets symphonies of peace.
Travel back in time, enhancing…
Feeling of a childhood breeze…
Read More at Offline Thinker:
Follow Offline Thinker on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. You can send us your writings at connect.offlinethinker@gmail.com
Facebook Comments
