Blog

The seagull poet is flying,Hovering about everlasting momentsHovering about silver sparkles,Hanged in the air,Watching precisely below.All of a sudden, he swoops down;By dipping his headIn

As we didn΄t manageTo dedicate excellent poetry to each other,As we didn΄t manageTo paint the portrait of each otherWith flawless strokesOn the canvasses of the

He strikes the chisel with the hammerAnd counting.Hesitations and certaintiesAre reflected on the materiality.Every time that a flake falls dawnThe sculptor looks the result deeply

The horizon is hidden by waves;Above, the chief wins waySurveying everythingLike a scorching spy,We are walking in a sigle fileWrapped in the animal smellsAnd in

Drop by drop and secretlyThe unpermitted pleasureIs instilledIn the vains of the brave.Lost in the roar and the fogthe river has witnessed him.The maniac is

While we are snuggled upA salutary rain started pouring down.Υour scherzos, your grimaces,The words of you slip in the reservoir;Your lips are sealed by my

I look at you as being a strangerA distant visionAn unfulfilled childish phantasy,A dawn emerging for first time.I look at you, sweet familiar visageProfitable investment

One glance from you is sufficientTo fling me at the speed of lightWedge in the heart of the Space. One kiss from you is sufficientTo

We do not set our eyes on blue granitesNor upon fleeting contours of the land.We do not feel warmedBy the flickers of the lighthousesNeither our