There will be none.
“What can I offer to this sketch…”The tape will change,
I mean the chapter,
will be forever altered
in my brain.
Old pain will be placed
in the attic for a while
as the memories begin
to shape and outline
like a growing vine
on the castle full of scars.
What can I offer to this sketch
complete, magnificent and
The sun is lighting up this way,
and the waves continue pushing me
like some drunk but friendly bunch,
towards the land remote and little known.
I’m sorry. But for now
there will be no saudade
for my current streets,
sleepy traffic lights and heat.
It’s number four,
and so far I really know,
that no place is perfect,
not all people sing in the rain
but many souls are locked in chains,
rotting in the inner cave,
but not pacing anymore.
Poetry by Vladimir Fischer
Thank you very much for any help!