My Most Beautiful Poems on Birds' Wings

We neither shouted nor called

We walked on our way with our heads held high

We hit the bottom of loneliness

With the sounds of the door creaking

Friends with cows, goblins, nightmares

We struggled with the darkness

The freezing cold penetrated us

Empty coffins, ready for bed

And bats in the ruined ruin

They thought it was dampness, the tears of my walls

The smell of soot my quilt

My lost youth.

I wrote on the wings of cranes

My most beautiful poems

The blue sky was far away

Bullet holes in the doors

The looks were shaky, timid like a pigeon

It used to snow in flakes

We used to watch together with the street lamp

My eyelashes would freeze

I collected my ashes for years

I accumulated a lot of loneliness

In notebooks, in papers, pencils

August bugs would laugh at me

I was cold to spite August

I was a winter child

I never knew summer

Every day is like a century

Every day a prisoner

Life for bread money

No one knows my subsoil

How my branches turned green

I understood by living that

Man was created from the earth.

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