sâmbătă, 12 mai 2012


designed by Sharlota Ban 

Our soul has bird form when we fly back.

Poem by Celestine 

 I was the master of the mute angels
Down on their knees, 
The cosmos appeared full of ants swept by the earth.
Rested on a man's shoulder with hungry eyes
Watching his dreams:

Frugal dreams of a clay dance
Fell from the sky.
Bird-shaped dreams,
When man wanted Icarus wings.

Dance with me,
Hand in hand with death
Imitating the stars,
For God made the sky
In the form of a bird.

Put the last God on Earth.
His noisy arms mesmerized the dawn
The heaven crucified by humans
Need bird wings to rise again. 
A new scintillation of love laid down on my shoulders.
I came to you in the form of a bird.


 Our bones grow when we die
In a world of fanatics I stood on my foot of light,
Made the epitome of how to use the wings
 Like a drain inside the heart made by the mortals.

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