The Firebird

Along the road between past and future

If you glimpsed me run, could you tell

Whether I was still pushing forward

Or retreating under the blows of pain?


If you witnessed me freeze and bend double,

Burying my face in shaking hands,

Would you think I was laughing at a joke’s echo

Or weeping helplessly over a secret hurt?


With my feet in the air and arms outstretched,

If you saw how I leaped off the edge,

Would you choose to imagine me soaring,

Or, acknowledging gravity, falling to death?


You won’t know: our paths have crossed for but a moment;

Let’s say that I ran forward, that I joyfully laughed,

And when I came to the edge of the world and stepped off it,

Let’s believe that I turned

Into a firebird

The Farthest of the Stars

I am the farthest of the stars:

Millions of light years separate

The truth – that I’m already dead –

From what you see, the clear, white lie;


Alive for you, my glow each night

Stops time in flight and conquers space;

Likewise, my warmth, my love, my smile

Will never die a mortal’s death


So when your hands cannot reach mine,

When silence takes my voice and name,

Look at the farthest of the stars,

And know, what matters – shines, always!

To my Mother

The Boy and The Bird

I’m sorry,
I’m soaring
Higher and higher;
The liar,
I said I would stay;
I am flying
Through clouds, and
The world is
As white as I,
And like me, it’s abandoned
And deaf
Don’t call my name
You don’t know it;
I dreamed not the dreams,
That you believed I did;
There was not in me
A human heart to give
I was a song, which failed
To find a voice,
A poem,
Sounding more like prose,
An eagle
Without the gift of seeing
I’d hidden my wings,
Two broken things,
Away from you,
Away from me;
I’d thought I could stay;
But when I felt the sun,
Again tasted the wind,
I remembered, what
It meant to have wings,
And forgot
I had promised to stay;
I am sorry,
I’m soaring
Higher and higher,
On two broken wings,
Strung together
By light
The higher I rise,
The longer I’ll fall for;
Go home,
Don’t stand waiting for me –
The one, who traded you
For a moment of freedom

On Holiday

All the prayers have gone unanswered;
The gods, it seems,
Have gone on holiday,
Smoking Cuban cigars,
Betting galaxies and lives
As they laugh and play
Russian roulette
The world’s been left ungoverned;
The gods, they know
It’s too busy to rebel,
Selling and buying souls,
Some dirt-cheap, and others so
High-priced that even the gods
Must bargain for them
All the dead’ve been left unburied,
And those who have survived
Have lost their minds;
There was no one to pray
To, and nobody to blame,
No role model to abide
By the rules of the game
The world has all but ended;
Because the gods have gone
On holiday

For Me

Whatever gods you pray to, pray for me

Believe in something for a day – for me

My mouth, you see, is sealed forever now

I couldn’t even say my own ‘good-bye’


In early spring smile at the sea for me,

Still cold but open to the warming light;

In summer build a house of sand for me,

In autumn make me a bouquet of leaves,


In winter dance alone or dance with snow –

The way I used to always dance alone –

And then, again, pray to whatever gods you know

For me, who never really learnt to speak