Roman Pines

The years flew and like seashells in slumber
days opened up their heavy pearly valves:
between entwined branches peering in wonder
into the pitch black of the distant intervals.
...

The darkness grinned having seen
the sun’s farewell glide
to hide behind Cathedral’s dome.
There it sets its glow.
...

What remains in our eyes from former red-hot fires?
From the midday sun? From the whirlwind as the century goes?
From love and from pain? Only cracks in stone days
on Earth’s plateaus.
...

Deck it out with word-made eyes:
look how beautiful
while bringing forth the ding-dong day
and trembling as it melts
...

Sacred, your life, your love, your loveliness
entwined in this twilight
so gracefully as would become a goddess
bestowing love and worshiped ever tight.
...

The years compose odes to the wintry bygone light.
Everything that was to happen happened long ago.
No one compares to your beauty in this world, my love.
Under northern sky, above death and life,
...

Someone has died below,
and the star shoots from above.
The sky slowly lets it go
like the foliage shed by the park.
...

Round, round, round
twirling snow - twirling
in the twilight of pallid stars,
in the white eyes of all that was,
...