I am alone. Alone. Alone!
I’m crying in the middle of the street
and my howl is green
the madness which I am growing is black
my father kept my hand
and he said me
you will eat a bread from the place
where is your soul !
How truth and how untruth
I’m hungry
truly hungry
my soul is in poetry
the poetry fill the brain and heart
I’m writing poetry from my dark loneliness
I’m writing with blood and
and –
with my horses herd from my mind
waiting the death
as a blue- red pillar of fair
and over these the white bird
from my soul
but I am a beggar, a poet- beggar
