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3:00amThere's always fear amidst his joy,
a little voice in the back of his head,
warning him of everything that might go wrong.
Yet, the nightly ghosts and the monsters
who lurk and scratch the floor under her bed,
were just the myths of a man who
wanted an excuse to hold her each night.
He doesn't think like this anymore,
he lies awake and ponders as the shadows
sway in their tribal dance along the walls,
and wholeheartedly hopes, that they
will rip a frustrated scream out of his throat
one that's loud enough to conceal the nagging voice.
"Oh my boy, haven't I warned you?
Love is a sin, don't come near
fairy-tales are only meant for books,
but you dove right in, driven by a foolish need.
You've tasted the bitter end of a blade
roles switched, now you're the monster she fears."
"She says your smile is beautiful,
like a sun shining so bright, a strength through your pain,
yet she fails to see the poisonous thorns
you nurtured with treason and grudge.
She doesn't know
Upside-DownIn an upside-down world,
Our first meeting will lack shyness,
and the rules of social etiquette,
instead it'll be an insult towards you,
and a bullet through my head
shot from a smoking pistol,
you clutch in your hands.
We'll get to know each other through neglect,
I'll let you go to bed mad,
and you'll hurt me on a whim.
I'll never say I love you,
it's a privilege you can't get.
I'll simply shoo you off,
and you'll give me the finger and walk away.
In this world, where beginnings are tearful,
the endings will be our joy, they'll be the point
where we're supposed to fall in love,
and grow bored of our hurtful routine.
Only then, I'll pull you close and whisper,
about the first time I snapped a picture of
your heart melting smile, the one that
sent me tumbling to the ground,
in the middle of the road, and sent
my coffee splashing all over me.
You were the one who offered me help.
I'll admit I long for your embrace
in the cold mornings when it's raining
Ave,It's never enough for him,
she'll always be the punching bag
he enjoys to torture so.
Even when he's not around,
his cruelty never fades.
His twisted morals don't allow him to let her go.
He drops off the face of the earth,
a month or two, even more,
but the million memories are still there,
battling, struggling and ripping her
from the inside out,
a massacre within her heart.
With a thousand thoughts in her mind,
and the burning ache in her soul
she holds her pride to her throat,
ready to let her boiling blood pour.
Only then he comes back,
to renew his vows, to reignite
the longing, the sorrow, the so called love.
He took her for granted, that was his sole fault.
He stands aside, envious of her smile, though,
she's no longer his, and her eyes look the other way
while she shares a dance with another man.
She's no longer the wreck he worked so hard to create,
she now soars in skies he can't even dream to reach.
She sees him, but doesn't care,
behind his fanged smile and cold glare
If I CouldIf I could,
I'd climb over the walls of fate,
pick your days one by one,
make sure they're filled
with happiness and joy.
If I could,
I'd go to the farthest shrine.
The top of the highest mountain,
and steal two clouds out of heaven
only to place them as pillows under your head.
If I could,
I'd fill your bed with rose petals,
break a thousand bottles of perfume,
and offer you a small jar that holds
the scent of earth after the first rain.
It's as simple as such,
my gifts will never be
in the hands of another,
For you're the one I call love.
Dear little oneBe still tormented little boy,
she's the one for you but
you can no longer call her name.
All your dreams have burned and expired
and you hate to go to sleep
not to see her haunt your nights
and revive a hope you tried hard to purge.
Everyday starts the same,
a quiet, innocent hey, but
behind it there's a ton
of words you no longer speak.
You took an unspoken vow
to keep it buried deep below
and pretend things are okay.
There are days when it hurts
too much to hold back the truth,
and you can't deal with the lump that lurks in your throat.
Oh little boy you wonder if she knows
how much you struggle
to keep your smile burning across your lips,
or how many times you swallow
your pride not to stir a war.
Maybe you're obsessed by now
and she's only playing along,
out of pity because you've lost it all.
You always said we should
count the stars one by one,
for when we reach an infinite,
we'll find the happiness we always sought.
Your bedtime stories were always
about the good, old lady who
decided to knit a blanket for
all the children of the world but,
someone always got left out.
Now I wonder if this was your way
of telling me we were never meant to last.
You braid my dreams,
a single strand at a time,
In each knot I'd hide a runaway fish,
and in every braid I'd search for a hope.
You said I could be the princess,
and you're the knight who'd keep me safe,
because the world around us is so cruel
but you never told me,
I had to be strong on my own.
I vowed to pray in your name,
whenever you lit a candle,
in search for more of our promises
that scattered away in the dark,
but we both knew you won't find any,
you've already gave them to someone else
you were no longer mine,
I barely recognize you anymore.
I wonder if I'll stop seeing the spring
EndlessThe darkness matches your eyes,
Is it too much of an unfair accusation?
Or a bit too sad?
Perhaps it's a little too certain,
but I can't seem to care.
The kindness of your poems stirs
too many feelings I once buried,
an endless hunger, an exhaustion
that forced me to drop my jaded rings,
and lose the rose I once planted in my heart.
I offered you a field of bread,
soft pillows, and barely survived
the stomping horses that dragged
carriages of almonds to your feet
instead of running to the far edges of the world.
Spill your answers into me,
I still can't get myself to care,
whatever you say has lost its meaning,
I no longer know what's lie and what's the truth.
A wall stands between us now,
and darkness goes well with candles and wine,
but still a perfect match for the look in your eyes.
I know you're scrambling a reply, but
I know it's just as scattered as your shadows,
we no longer have a light.
I breathe, you breathe.
I blow, you blow.
I toss left and right, you toss ten
CasanovaPerhaps you've waited,
but I cut the doves' wings,
so they won't bring me the letters
you tuck so carefully into blue envelopes,
a single line, neatly written, asking
what took me so long to get back to you?
Maybe birds pecked at the crusts of my heart,
the ones I willingly threw down the road,
just so I'll always find my way into your arms,
through fields of golden wheat, marred
with the dreams we pretend that they ceased to be.
Maybe you've had me mistaken,
for one of the Seven Wonders of the world,
or a myth that you heard under a red moon.
Maybe I'm the treasure you greedily long to hold,
but your hands were always short, always out of reach.
But maybe you were the liar all along,
you are not the adventurer behind the fables,
nor the immersed Casanova you brag to be
especially after your fifth tankard of ale.
You're just the man who sips his morning coffee
on the same table every single day, and
hopes that someone would stop and listen,
to the lies you claim to be
It was once called homeWhen an old man bends,
and picks a crust of bread,
kisses it, then feeds it to a dove.
You can't help but wonder,
if bread is now more sacred than blood.
When darkness rides down the road,
and you're stopped by a dozen barricades
so a soldier with a gun,
would confirm your innocence.
They did search me too,
but didn't find a home in my bag.
In a city where war is a street away,
yet everyone is breathing death
you remember when you lost a few marks,
because you wrote that the creatures in the sea,
also feed on the dead as much as on the living.
If only you can see that teacher again,
he'd give you those marks and cry.
When the market is still bustling with life,
socks, and food, cigarettes and hidden agents,
and a few other checkpoints with guns,
the tissue you use to wipe your tears,
might be the next bomb that
starts a downpour of blood.
In my city everyone has aged,
maybe thirty or forty years at a time.
It hasn't been so long,
but right now it's a faraway dream.
A land w
A void within meAlone on this inhospitable night, once again
I let my memories guide my lost steps,
Wandering amid the ghosts of my past.
As I walk along the quay,
I stare at the feeble Seine flowing:
She's dying by the street lamps' hands
While the whole city asphyxiates.
Reflecting my own lack of humanity
Over the river's lighted surface,
Griefs come and go at the water's rhythm.
Once again, on this breathtaking night,
My feelings are sealed and my chest hollow.
Purple rain, chills of cold.... Or regret? I crave
My musical drug, my remaining salvation,
Spreading a sweet poison within me and
Eroding the remaining happiness I still have.
I plug my headphones...
A grin of relief appears on my weary face,
I flee to lenient lands, where a familiar Angel tucks me in.
These notes of violin split the immutable silence,
Fill the hole in, lit a bonfire to my soul.
This mermaid sings my dreams to me,
She smells like flowersThe young boy just wanted to hold her tight
As he felt her amber hair flutter about in the breeze
Looks scattered timidly, unrestrained heartbeats faded away
This young adventurer finally found the fragrance he'd die for.
Putrid seas of despair became Twilight's holdings
Here comes victorious Dawn, hammering her flowered flag into
The possessed boy's skull. This new Freedom he was blessed,
Kept running through his mind as if he has lived thousands of lives.
He craved her all night long, a fellow bottle in hand
Waiting made his night last longer than eternal Oblivion
Howling as a lost soul, until he smells her again,
The shy boy was reeked of youth's insouciance,
On his fresh field
Ode to the wilted CamelliaIt all began with a smile...
The freshly awaken Camellia, morning's wonder
Highlighted even on a rubies' field
She was her own spring sun ; a mellifluous beauty
The gullible Camellia, tricked by this charming rose
Got stung to the blood, cleaned out of her inner light.
Another victim of this world's rottenness
The saddening outcome of a barbaric act.
The daughter of Nature got fouled
Reeked of the rose's stench
Acid rain poured on this virgin sprout
And lost her blossom forever
She dreams of nightmares, craves forgetfulness
Floods of tears under the bloody moon
Her desperate and heartbreaking screams
shatter the icy silence of the Withering Night.
Eternity may not be long enough
For the Camellia to shed all her sorrow -
Oh ruthless Scythe!
You sent to the skies such a pretty Camellia.
...It all ended with a bullet.
Ma muse aveugle(English version below)
Elle laisse à mi-chemin la froide brume dans les ténèbres épais,
Disparue malicieusement en catimini derrière un nuage d'engelures
Elle passe, s'arrête et se fige dans cette toile pleine de tristesse ;
M’apparaissant lors de mes nuits glaciales assombries par le chagrin.
Vêtue de ta robe d'albâtre que mes tourments essaient de salir
Radieuse en ce soir dont tu as drainé toute lumière, tu représentes
La quintessence de la beauté éternelle, l'unique perle du ciel,
Vestige de mes vies inachevées.
L'Attente tisse ses gelures au fil de nos jours trop long
De ses membres décrépits, sans fin. La Lune, ma muse...
Ton éclat se meurt dans les méandres de notre souffrance,
Sur ton visage de marbre, une expression figée depuis des siècles
Un sourire se cache-t-il derrière tes cicatrices
Slivers of light(French version below)
The most dreadful winter of my life came.
I abandoned the idea of a blossoming future,
Fled the misery of my own motherland,
For a woman I have far too often dreamt of.
Among the singing buds of the Shinto shrine
A white plum caresses my back,
Its petals lull me, my eyes are sealed, sweet reverie,
A convent of grass
The junk of my thoughts
Send me to Amaterasu.
Blushing Lotus, enticing Lilacs, panting Azaleas,
So many mistresses!
Enough perfumes to be drunk from them.
Why, my promise, have I been waiting so long to join you?
Your hair like Sakura flowers
Your laughters sound like Shamisen.
Over the pond, a dragonfly sits down and begins to dream
Haunted(English version below)
Mes rêves me parlent encore de toi,
Sous une pluie battante où ces lames s'écrasent contre moi,
Chaque goutte m'est plus douloureuse que la précédente.
En hurlant au désespoir, Solitude me contemple et compatit.
Seule, je me noie
Dans ces marécages sonores où ton nom résonne,
Asphyxiée par ma propre respiration, dans un murmure
Mes poumons se remplissent de ce manque.
Cette corde du désespoir à laquelle je suis pendue
Cédera bientôt sous le poids de mes tourments
Permettant à mon esprit de prendre son triste envol.
Un champ fleuri écorché vif dans la fleur de l'âge,
Mon âme m'est arrachée comme les racines du vieux chêne.
Je ne suis qu'une carcasse vide voguant sur l'océan de la dépression
Où j'ai l'impression que même le vent souffle ton nom.
My dreams are st
Haikus from our love
Pink Sakura buds
The wild wind of youth is there
Our love blooms again
Des bourgeons roses de Sakura
Le vent sauvage de la jeunesse est là
Et notre amour fleurit à nouveau
A dropped caress -
More beautiful than ever
She belongs to me
Une caresse déposée -
Plus belle que jamais
Bed of wilted hopes
A smile is sealed on this face
Last Winter of her life
Lit d'espoirs fanés
Un sourire est scellé sur ce visage
Le dernier Hiver de sa vie
Master of puppets(French version below)
He has his dolls wrapped around his finger
Willing to besmirch their honor, soil their souls
Do degrading things, human things.
Just to survive in this fouled world
Survive one more day
And struggle against the fear of being still alive.
But these poor little creatures of silk have little choice
The master is pulling all the strings.
Master, your dolls aren't mere puppets:
Behind their frozen appearance, drugs as an only friend
Nobody to release them from this putrid hold.
Only used to entertain your guests
They know they're dirty, they feel dirty. They know
The experience of violence, ashamed to exist.
Missing a heart like a real marionette,
The master knew how to handle his puppets as no one
And make them enticing to the eye of his audience,
Closing on them his grip of terror.
On a beautiful sunny morning, the master,
Strutting in front of his collection, noticed with pleasure that
His brothel never had such succ
Ta voix(English version below)
Au loin, ta silhouette s'efface de plus en plus sur l'ardoise de ma mémoire. Comme soufflée par le vent assassin, dans un nuage de craie.
Des années passent et le temps, ce bourreau, fait gentiment son office. De quelle couleur étaient tes yeux, tes cheveux, tes joues ? Je m'en vais présenter mes respects à toi, mon ami que j'ai oublié et dont seule la voix reste encore.
Perdue sur cette allée que je redoute, j'ébrèche chaque chêne comme pour partager ma souffrance. Tremblante de chagrin, chutant à chaque pas ; j'appréhende comme toujours ce funeste face-à-face. Ma poitrine se déchire sous les coups de l'Angoisse, impériale et immuable. Et parmi les corbeaux haut perchés, je rampe péniblement jusqu'à toi, là où ta voix me guidera.
...Le silence sourd émanant de ta tombe est le seul son qui parvient
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