silence is an immense boulevard from pyongyang
a night in the northern part of the peninsula
the transparent veil of indifference laying over it
with a sound of ardent ovations

you measure my unspoken words with the ruler
waiting for a trip to another yellow-phosphorescent shore
in the room haunted by the weak twinkle of your body
crossing it naked and absent in front of the TV-set

a child at the window across the street lets a smile drop
the night fluttering its wings like a raven pours fright
into our veins thinned by a constant absence

I’d climb up to your window
on ropes knitted by time
otherwise used as gallows
for the endless silences within the dungeon
of the being weaned of tears

I fear for my loneliness and
desires burst out like a violet foam
dispersed along my body alike
a station of an empty metro...

like a boulevard from pyongyang
in a night full of flavors
of bitter cherries