Natalia Bakina

A little bird touches my cheek...
She's a descendant from the peak
...

When the sky shields its dim starry eyes,
The night’s kimono is spreading unwrapped
...

By my mayhem once he was brought,
A man speaking birds and leaves,
...

You turn my whole life inside out,
You leave my mind in a mesmeric rise,
...

Do you hear a moonlit gale
Whistling its spectral tale?
...

Open my heart and find your image there:
My endless desire is tangled in your hair,
...

Life is entropy... a spiral of decline... myriads of stars flying into a vortex tube...
...

When restlessly burning souls,
Getting tired of their earthly roles,
...

Orange is scattering summer lace...
Unweave it to make a string,
...

My mental martyrdom’s recurring
To melt my will... I can’t resist
...

THERE was a man whom Fate named my Love, and he, his High Code honouring, went with fast steps along the Shore of Time, across my Life, left his traces on my Sands, set the luminaries balanced on the Wheel of Fortune.
...

and all animals are silent,
My melancholy wrenches
and drives me violent...
...

How could you tell them from imagination?
True moments of existence last
As long as they enhance the spirit of creation...
...

No black, no white in the last parlour
Where seven candles you should burn
Imbibing secrets of their colours,
Shaking my ashes from the urn.
...

The bare empty sky has swallowed
The contours of the outside -
The world is left all warped and hollowed,
Glaring twisted in a fright.
...

I’m like a mollusc in a sticky shell
Endeavouring to find the day
And break out of the inner hell,
Ill tides that fill me with dismay,
...

I would be your guard to save
Memories from shaded traces;
I would be a placid wave
To rock you in all-night embraces.
...

My every lonely conscious hour
Is dragging me into you night,
Impassioned by exalted powers
Of your wistfully fanciful mind.
...

When the morning explodes in the shimmering dew
Which reflects back the pure heaven's vast,
When you're asleep I'm looking at you
And pray for these moments to last...
...

I am a lizard in your trees,
My skin is cold and brittle,
But I shed fires underneath
When forge my wreath of riddle.
...