Look how happy he is.
Anchor in novemberThe multicoloured autumn flutters above us,Anchor in november by Ella-Popescu
like a majestic bird.
We were wreathing ourselves into each other
towards the sky,
a blue pillar of time into infinite.
The old monastery was chryselephantinelly sparkling
under the patina of time.
Metaphysical melancholies were beginning to burn
into the willows' chandeliers,
hieratically watching over Ave Maria.
Up above, into my highest sky you were singing all around me
swaying the universe into me like into an anchor,
you were insinuating the sunset upon the path,
the power deep in your eyes
was warmly thrilling me.
Dreams were rising and mystery's sparks
under the blue horizon,
happiness was breathing inside me like into a majestic bird.
The miracleInside my soulThe miracle by Ella-Popescu
The golden Autumn of Vivaldi resounds
The wind and the rain come up against the windows
golden, red, green, maroon leafs
rise on every path
in every color
I'm standing in front of you, naked,
it's warm inside, upon the table
the hot wine steams, the vapours rise among the chrysantemums.
You're standing in front of me, like a miracle.
Do you know how it's like to face a miracle?
Your soul sings
your soul greedily gobbles
through your pupils the light slips
your iris is full of sweet questions
like the summer fields are full of skylarks.
You were gone away.
I've found you in the rain,in the fog
on a bench, amidst a garden
were the roses are still in bloom
sprinkled by the rain,
smiling among the multicolour blossoms,
Your smile was sparkling
like a pearled ring.
We will drink the cups of hot wine,
the music will keep on flowing
from us, filling the world,
there are so many dimmensions of real,
why can't we see ourselfs
in the beginnin
Your kiss... my scepterYour kiss... my scepter.Your kiss... my scepter by Ella-Popescu
as the sun kisses the colorless matter;
by its magic, the sun lights up all the colours.
as the sun, that by its magic
gave birth to the living world,
a world in which living energy,
pulsates, sparkles with essences
under its forehead.
until my matterial ragg will fall
I would incandescently be reborn under
the shield of the body
until all my dreams in which
my soul has flew by your side
higher than the sky
will be layed down at your feet,
our souls intensely lived
their own legend,
your kiss that tastes like the heart of a star,
your kiss that smells like pure new snow,
your kiss that fills the emptiness in my existence
up to ecstasy,
your kiss, made only for me,
for the world, the cipher of which it is,
your kiss that locks inside me mysteries
Your kiss ... my scepter!
Your voice that envelopes my soul
like an unique and extremely delicate veil
Read the poem you're writing for me
The Sign of The SunThe Sun, the great, writes inside our souls,The Sign of The Sun by Ella-Popescu
with sunshine he writes , their irreplaceable symphony.
The eternally determined sequence
by our evanescent,
tenderly found again in an andante scents,
on a lake shore, in an autumn meadow filled glade
or strolling through the vineyard, the garden, the orchard,
those are his signatures.
Blossomed in a song, or in the fragment of a dream,
how beautiful the people are when they are happy,
like an evanescent flower necklace On Happiness's hot breasts!
A hand-holding harvests one from the other
a breeze exchange that sais:
"Friend, how the beautiful, the unspoken lies inside you,
like on a Christmas tree surrounded by children's eyes!"
The Sun, the great, gathers us longing by longing,
sunshine by sunshine and adds a sign to it, a noblemindedness aura
from inside for those who have the eyes to see it.
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