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Francine Van Hove ... ~ ~ inside out ...

Francine Van Hove ... ~ ~ inside out ...


Take me alleys,
Hand in hand, though ailing.
Gate deaf, echoing,
Like rags, will fit me.


Heal me - spotless,
Anxiety and burning reproach,
For you will be the first comer,
The most tender, the best.


Calm me stitching melting,
That does not end the dots.
Banned from playing in the forwards,
Do not believe in my mezhdustroche.


Hold me - if the first,
To convince me that I'm strong,
Heal me from unbelief,
Of grief, trouble, pain, or I


Conjure whether shamanism, holiness
Last Supper, sorcery -
Protect me from betrayal,
Preserve me from ignorance.


Tremor in his lips a lot, in the heart of the belfry
Bell - forgiveness.
Protect me from insomnia,
Complete the my appeal.


I proshlёpayu bare feet into my mother's room,
milk unfinished vyplesnuv a winter window.
I will be a very little. Heart fright intact
will knock your ears. Lowered the bed on his heels


and dive headlong into the blanket flap sewn -
anyone about anything blanket will not tell.
I will weep bitterly, muttering and sobbing desperately,
and nails dig into my pillow, and tears smeared.


BLANKET darkness shining a flashlight,
so no one saw, write poems untitled
about you, about the spring, donated air balloon,
about the hospital and pain, betrayal and distance.


And then - and I will wipe the tears vynyrnu in the dusty street,
usmehnus over recent stupid, evil issues
tears over excitedly. I'm an adult, angry and strong.
And do not drink milk. And do not cry. And bare feet are not.

Is nothing more to say other than "Hello. Thank you. "
After a month of separation, which took place under local anesthesia?
Freezes the soul, as if had been ill with influenza.
Freeze the eye, save any unnecessary tears.


Failed prince, but worthy of a freelance artist,
Fight for you - with a sad story quixotic.
Ranka aches (final) - I will make plantain,
Yes, ?It must have been love? and, perhaps, enough of that.


- Do not Cry.
- Do not cry. Who are you?
- I am an angel.
- Are you real?
- Is there a doubt?
- Look, angel, will dance the tango?
You're dancing?
- Mood.


- Are you the keeper?
- I study, but I will.
- Damn, angel - and the student.
- Here you go ...
- Come on, forget it.
- Forget it.
You're from the sky better than the real thing.
- Come on, will dance?




- Let's hand.
- What gallant.
- Well, it should.
And that roared?
- Oh, out of boredom.
- Because you're lying?
- A little bit.
- What is complicated.
- Here you go ...
- Hurt? Forget it.
- I forgot.
Motive is not important -
Is Foxtrot, Tango Is.
In an empty apartment.
Eyes closed.
Palm warmed.
Dancing with an angel ...
Lyrics: Maria Malena
Artist: Francine Van Hove

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