Anthem

I.
Sitting at your desk, you strain your gaze –
Quarter till the shore; the sail has fallen down
The silence of the immobile minutes
Twenty boats in a jammed pond

You’ve just been touching her hair
When awakened by importunate voice
With chalk you draw white threads –
Which leaves a reluctant trace on fingers

„Eight” may not the eight wonder of the world
But it may be it one day
Because when you look back, after a couple of years
You will realize it might have given you something after all

II.
Even if you wanted to hide in oblivion
The heavy minutes at the bottom
They will come back to moisten your eye
With the thought of EIGHT PALO

Notebook papers ripped out
They fly, they fall, they shiver in the air…
And you, who are you? You kiss goodbye to the gate
And you want to say you felt nothing?

„Eight” may not the eight wonder of the world
But it may be it one day
Because when you look back, after a couple of years
You will realize it might have given you something after all