This train stops at no station, Not yet, It climbs towards the evening, Carrying feelings.
It smells like perfume and old leather chairs. Silent, but crowded, All spread across the wagons, This train holds life.
With me, there’re other lovers, Not mine, Some godlike youth, some older, Seeming to smile, And mingled with their features There is the promise’s play.
Upward a gaze, my heart is warm, I ask the sky of us, And wonder, if you’re waiting.
There is no answer, but I know That you are climbing the tower of desire, And from afar you’re watching The train…… Zig zagging through the hills, Clickety-clack, clickety-clack, The love song that carries me to you.
I smelled the flowers in my garden, their perfume filled my nostrils and my soul and gave me courage. They keep blossoming one year after another, why shouldn’t I? I put on my long cream leather gloves and I finally grabbed it. It was sitting there, in a corner, for a long time, but I did not want to let it go. They were all packed in it, my broken dreams. The suitcase was big, and heavy. I put it down several times before I reached the door, but then I gathered my strength and loaded it in the trunk of my car. It was a beautiful April day, almost summer, with a clear blue sky. My wheels kept rolling until I got to the ocean, to a familiar spot where I often come. I know the shore like the back of my hand, the tall cliffs, the places where it is safe to walk and where it is not. I parked close to a cliff, one of the tallest spots. It is a 60 feet drop, maybe more. I opened the sunroof, wide and looked at the sky. No clouds. I wondered where I was wrong and where I was right, but these questions died quickly. Taking a deep breath, I got out and opened the trunk. There they were, all packed in the suitcase, my broken dreams. I grabbed it and dragged it to the edge of the cliff. I almost tripped because my running shoes slipped over the grass, but after all the struggles I went through, this was the last one. I stood by the edge, with the suitcase next to me. The ocean was in reflux, and the sand underneath was dry. I took a deep breath, then another and with both hands I lifted the suitcase and threw it over the cliff. I did not look down, but I heard the loud bang. I waited, but there was no shockwave. My mind rambled. Over the years I learned many valuable life lessons and all of them turned me into the woman that I am today. I think all of us, once upon a time, were weak little girls who thought that everyone else is as pure and as innocent as we are (or were). I think all of us have fought back harder even when our minds convinced us that we will not survive the storms that others have brought upon us, especially when we were in love. I stood by the edge and in front of me was the ocean, endless, beautiful as in the day when it was created. It was midday and it smelled like summer fields mixed with salted water. I felt it. One beat, then another. It was my heart, beating straightforwardly, as genuine as it always did. It was not afraid to express its needs, its passions, its feelings. I smiled and knew that I would wear it on my sleeve, not afraid to find another lion heart that would want to conquer the world and be true. In this world where “soft” power might be seen as irrelevant, soft is the power. Soft means vulnerable, but it also means strong. I did not look down. I turned around and walked back to my car thinking that I am an adventurer; I am not just another girl…. I am every girl. I started the engine and smiled. It was the beginning. More dreams, more hopes, more love. Unafraid, I pushed forward, knowing that I can handle everything because…… when the going gets tough, the tough gets going. I am not just another girl…. I am every girl…..
On a hill covered with yellow flowers One more dandelion has lost its fluff in the wind Over my wishful thinking. It smells like grass and newness, As spring is blowing its wind of perfection over this side of the world.
Oceans, seas, hills and mountains between us, I still hear your heartbeat, What would I do without it? It may have been easier for Socrates and Aristotle, To exhaust the problems of everything and anything, Then it is for a lover to explain the world without the other.
I do excavations every day…. And as there is grace in all created things, I find it also in the archeology of my memory. All moments have language, smiles, smells, They have you…
From afar you enter my burning solitude, And make me feel alive. Stay! I should carry a dagger to scare away the night, Because I don’t dream of you every time I’m asleep.
How do I love you from afar? My thinking puts forth no fruit, But my heat does…. I just do.