Time and love. The novel in verse. George Pospelow
did overcome his passions.
Life covered him with mud —
not any longer —
he cleansed
himself from filthiness.
Life concealed the truth —
no more —
he did perceive
the Noble Eightfold Path25.
Life urged to undergo
the pain of mind —
not today —
he’s happy with the little.
It’s not he
is in the world,
but inside him
is the world
without vain efforts.
An everyday influence
A woman’s beauty —
mysterious is its force —
being passed on me
daily has become
my internal part.
It didn’t change
my appearance,
but embellished
my thoughts, even
the secret ones.
Pauses for respite
You indulge my pride
and pretend
you take me
as I am.
Always
call me
to follow you
to the point
where I need
to jump over
my appeased head.
During the intervals
of my prostration
from obstinacy,
you reinforce
your temper-character,
and charge
the batteries of love.
Freedom of love
Freedom of love
is not
a free love
or freedom
from love,
but a love
for freedom.
Love frees
freedom lovers —
no love is
without freedom.
The freedom in love
is the most
loved of freedoms.
Those who
the freedom loves
are free
in love.
Love is freedom.
Freedom is love.
Anniversaries: 200 versus 20
On my way to Singapore26,
I’ve ventured to see Bangkok27.
So, I walk among Buddhas,
chrysanthemums, smiles, and canals.
With a family and a suite,
decorated with precious stones,
the King sails nearby on a galley.
He observes, it’s a lot or not,
two hundred years of the House.
An obsolete Siamese antiquity,
he breaks into a smile,
waves goodbye by his hand.
An exceedingly rare performance,
but if you’d rather not,
I have my Queen,
and the anniversary,
it’s a lot or not,
ten times less.
Sure, I’ll decorate
my love from head to toe:
the stones are cheap,
rubies – if not lazy —
dig them out of the ground.
I bought a lot of them
and decorations, like potatoes,
the King made me angry.
Only my diplomatic passport
helped me transcend the Customs.
Love comforts in travels
The hollow hearts
of Don Juan
shared out in vain
with Donnas Annas
didn’t save a wanderer
from the eternal solitude.
One heart,
brimful with its own
and reciprocal love,
will assuage and heat up
with a home warmth,
even in travels.
When you are by me
In destiny —
it is a reason and
luck,
in love —
the feast for my
eyes,
in poetry —
more uncreated
poems,
in balance —
so useful intuition,
patience.
My life,
all they
are you!
Oriental love
The Orient is a subtle tool,
so, love is a coil of rules.
The moment of a just reproach
The balance of actions, feelings —
you set this honest stuff
in motion, scolding me
for my next mistake.
Love and the future
Love blooms in the present,
invigorates the sleeping past,
fears the yoke of the future.
The reciprocal love
Devaluing
the words of vows,
every tender touch
and
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