When your sleep dissipates
Into the smoldering whispers of sun dawn.
The feeling of a time and place
Where the light never ends and dreams linger
Like stardust in the hallways
of an ancient Rome city.
Through your closed eyelids,
Birch trees appear and then,
As my eye pans,
Your trembling eyelashes carry me
To a hillside of Vinci
Covered with ancient buildings,
A weathered statue of David
appears and disappears.
I hear in the far-off distance
snippets of Stravinsky
and Russian Silver Age poems,
and the desolate weeps of North wind and birds.
Your sleeping lungs’ sound seeps
Through my fingers.
On this lost night,
We are the tulips
searching for the Sun we have lost.
Only this dream knows us,
and we are its captives.
The whole scene seems like one long take,
even-though it’s quite segmented.
This is surely one of the most beautiful films
door Marina Kazakova
opgenomen in WEEKBLADEN #46 - schimmel in de architectenloft
gebruikt in uitzending RK-2021-04-10
Stuur uw bijdragen (enkel tekst aub, geen prentjes) voor de WEEKBLADEN naar email@example.com