HOME | DD

Description
Over the red, wooden bed where I slept since I was little,
On the ceiling of withered, scratched and yellowed lime,
I watched the crumbled pieces, as I did frequently.
The cracks were my only fun during the summers.

I often watched the old fox and chariot archer,
As they chased forever in their mangled poses,
With wide legs and short limbs, in odd forms,
In their grey silhouettes of old cement.

When I was nervous or happy, I watched them,
How they always did the same, without change.
They were never nervous or happy.
They were always themselves, same and unique.

Once, another piece of lime broke-off beside them.
Now, a small caravan joined the chase.
It came out of nowhere, entered the circle, and stayed.
I imagined a small circus that played and lived somewhere.

Time passed, and a new layer of lime covered them.
Now, no one could see them, they were invisible for all,
But I saw them still, I imagined them every night,
And they lived again and chased in circles.

I moved out of the country for a couple of years,
And I wasn’t home for a while, but I came back,
And, sitting down on the bed, I watched the ceiling with a smile.
I thought - childish fantasies, circuses, foxes, chariots…

That night, a drop that fell right on my nose, woke me.
I glanced at the place on the ceiling and saw a stain,
A water stain that was widening over it.
I merely licked the drop. It was salty… like a tear.

Description
Over the red, wooden bed where I slept since I was little,
On the ceiling of withered, scratched and yellowed lime,
I watched the crumbled pieces, as I did frequently.
The cracks were my only fun during the summers.

I often watched the old fox and chariot archer,
As they chased forever in their mangled poses,
With wide legs and short limbs, in odd forms,
In their grey silhouettes of old cement.

When I was nervous or happy, I watched them,
How they always did the same, without change.
They were never nervous or happy.
They were always themselves, same and unique.

Once, another piece of lime broke-off beside them.
Now, a small caravan joined the chase.
It came out of nowhere, entered the circle, and stayed.
I imagined a small circus that played and lived somewhere.

Time passed, and a new layer of lime covered them.
Now, no one could see them, they were invisible for all,
But I saw them still, I imagined them every night,
And they lived again and chased in circles.

I moved out of the country for a couple of years,
And I wasn’t home for a while, but I came back,
And, sitting down on the bed, I watched the ceiling with a smile.
I thought - childish fantasies, circuses, foxes, chariots…

That night, a drop that fell right on my nose, woke me.
I glanced at the place on the ceiling and saw a stain,
A water stain that was widening over it.
I merely licked the drop. It was salty… like a tear.