Monday, 12 April 2010


On the blue summer evenings, I shall go down the paths,
Getting pricked by the corn, crushing the short grass.
In a dream I shall feel its coolness on my feet
I shall let the wind bathe my bare head

I shall not speak, I shall think about nothing.
But endless love will mount in my soul
And I shall travel far, very far like a gypsy,
Through the countryside, as happy as if I were with a woman
Arthur Rimbaud


It is the spring to be blamed, not I..
I, who do not even like poetry!
But then there is a room locked and bolted deep inside, at the very far back..
Contrasting profoundly with the white, spacious and unassuming rest..
Filled with delicate embroidery, burgundy velvets, slick satin and lace
adorned with crystal chandeliers, and with foiled bergéres
and with translucent vases overflowing with huge flower bouquets...
One window is open to green, deep and windy woods with thousands of little animals and exuberant water falls
And the other blindfoldly open to insatiable lust and lush decadence... as the spirit of the spring calls!
Leash or unleash , is that the main problem???
No...pas de tout
Very unfortunately, it is not me who is in possession of the damn key..


yaseminwonderland said...

The room is unbolted. It was passionate through and through. But then I burned...and I yearned...come back here to write if you see him again...

yaseminwonderland said...

Dear Yasemin,
This is Yasemin from the future:))) I came back to tell you that yes he has called, and yes you have seen him and yes he keeps himself popping out in ur life as time goes by. But darling u r not interested at all, not even one bit...Now...there was another with just the right key...who knew well about crystall vases and all that...he was the hedonist as much as u, please come back and tell me what happens with that delicious one, because I know it was not curtains with him...I am so looking forward to playing with him...