Dvojité flamenco

Křivky otazníků

kličky, smyčky

echo proseb mučedníků

Vůně bramboráku

pera, desatera

život v barvách plameňáků

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The past still seems to post echoes

in colors of them flamingos

we watched stand still in setting sun

on one feet, they wouldn’t run

We’d take some pictures, hold our hands

discuss our twenty one grams

we’d kiss our cheeks and say goodbye

that used to be our lullaby

I still browse those pictures, time to time.

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