White Lilacs

Your tears do not belong to

this world. Do not trust the silence

that begins with the cry

of the innocent.

I wish I could regain my lost eternity,

but pain covered everything

with a faded shroud.

Do not waste your dreams on

unnecessary thoughts, do not deceive

the truth, let it bloom to spite the red stars.

You feel the hated shadow

slowly fades away, the lemon sun

dies away. We will not fall asleep

until time wakes up from a coma,

from a wasteful sleep.

And although a thorny wind blows

straight into the soul,

love is only worth repairing.

Your conscience has left white marks

on the thin skin of your wrists.

There are words left

with which you feed my naivety,

my doom, my prophetic dreams.

I have long wanted to lend a hand

to hatred, but death was gone so early.

Do not be afraid of winter,

because it is a promise

that one day white lilacs will bloom

in our hearts.

Reviews

[M. J. Smith]

A cross between Ranier Maria Rilke and John Keats. If they collaborated, it might sound something like this. Well Done!