We are included in the calculation of the world

Once you mate

Ten I check

And although winters are passing, summers

Still is the best to dream under the sky

Like Wanderers on the road

Towns and villages

People dreams

Stones shells

Sea sand

Tears pressed

Between happiness

On the map of life

The compass of the heart knows the way

Mountains rivers forest behind us

Still an unknown distance ahead

Build the world anew

From the basement to the roof

Shake the pillows full of feelings

Wash dark thoughts from the windows

Garnish balcony with flowers

Wrap walls with love

Prepare warm words

For everyday and Sunday

So the happiness will not run out

Gather smiles like plums

Preserve in jars

For winter

Evening

And rain

I will come to this world

Invite me for a tea

There will be spot for a cat

Colorful windowsill

First in brown

Horror in the eyes

Shaky step

Second in white

Stunned by the news

Takes small steps

Afraid of falling

Third in light blue

Small

Puts courageous steps

Bearded thug

Prods women apart

Life goes on

People eat dates

Death hangs in the air

Three women

Kneel on the asphalt

Air is stagnant

Thug carries a rifle

Like a bag with groceries

Sneaks from the back

Like a thief

Shoots in the neck

The one in the brown

Falls forward

The one in white

On her face

The one in light blue

Still kneeing

With her breasts rebelliously forward

Falls to the side

The burqa seam uncovers a foot

The killer covers it

And calls gravediggers

The longer I write to You

The more I move away

From dried pear tree

And path of asters

A shed passes by

Eaten by time

Looms in memory

I wash with rain

Faces of memories

Where every summer

Braids of hollyhocks were blooming

Paradise

Was path of grass

I am writing back

With short thought

Maybe with you it will sprout with a poem

What to do with a coat

Nobody will fasten

A doll that children’s hands will not be holding

A lonely photograph

With nameless people

That will not remind of anyone

Glasses that will not fix the eyesight

Music that is locked in black records

There were so many of them

In little gestures

Repeated every morning

Old drapes blown away by the wind

Scarred wounds

Wrapped with wild plantain

Covered with dust

Life turned into escape

Under the sign of a star

I am looking for home

Is there a place on the map

Where being myself I will be at home

So foreign everywhere

Always out of suitcases

Instead of a ticket

I press a poem in my hand

Turmoil again and again

Chases away around the world

People are leaving

Death is a thorn after them

Father crucified by illness

Kept repeating: Happiness brings only kindness

He wrote it into our hearts

Mother binds days with bread

Bakes it before dawn

Home smells like love

In the morning I Cary in the bag

Golden loaves

Ordered by friends

They help to live with dignity

To buy coat for winter

Coal to heat the house

Only kindness

Keeps us alive

Look Father

In the eyes of a woman I saw

A little boy

Yesterday

She was putting him to sleep

Giving milk in the bottle

Checking for fever

Tomorrow

She will take cigarettes to jail

Her sentence continues

One cannot be freed from love