Norbert Tasev

Surely the soul is now seeking refuge; unbelievers harm him, slaps him to pieces, because he is different in everything, even in separation. You cannot sit still, in the tender, forgiving lap of your sweetheart: Outside envy and evil eyes will lurk in your loneliness! The prison net destined for the ground will be strangled around you.

Stubborn, sly hands tearing into each other's hair tear the restless existence of the bulbs of the new life: A man is broken because he is light-hearted, and carelessness trampled on nothing, and now Nothing has become his eternal companion, and he suffers a heartbreaker! - Disgust and helplessness swamp me!
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Now the crazy, bribed Loneliness, like a silent, irresponsible killer, burst into my life: And then I just started saying to myself, "If you are afraid and afraid of Tomorrow, at least give me the world today and appreciate it! "And among so many endless things, Man seemed to sparkle, beneath the surface of vanities! "

Mood pessimism is now more than unbearable - when the bad weather comes! You know the mood of your mood - patiently waiting for your joy! Slowly, maybe you don't have money left over. Your stomach is declaring a protesting, swirling war against you, and you know: In you, self-pity grows like an unhooked weed!
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Surely no one knows anymore that in my eyes, in the form of abundantly flowing streams, the flood has broken its way many times. That I was bitterly annihilated and put my little love memories underground! No one already knows where my untouchable paradise and the eternal gate of my heart have been: Prison bars are surrounded by martyrs of stalks of rosehips and are spreading richly!

Autumn dewy and mystical mist is now this earth, and in the extinct apocalyptic puddles floats on the surface of suicidal tears the lucky ones who live up there have long since moved, and only loneliness cries, still at night. Where skeletal branches vibrate trembling and shiver every sober Estonian
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Curious, overzealous and eager to babble on the innocent head: I silabize the delicate strands of amber that leaned gracefully on me, and my clumsy hand of oak finds small cracks in the bulbs of a tired lily head. And meanwhile, I whisper words of love, what do you mean by a horse-tying son! Kit Due to the piety of Fates guided to me I estimated in my world life I, yet my tongue silently rang my expanding words that anything

I could have confessed to him too! "That's how I dreamed of it patiently, with increased slowness." And when two bombshell lips clicked in front of my eyes and the immortal kiss poem exploded, a little maybe I died myself too! Who once had the unbroken belief that I had done wisely by smoothing out the pregnant worries of my past - now I just stumbled, and I could only stand betrayed: I was most frightened of the irreversible wounding!
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A secret symbol of love or a sacrifice meant for fertility - getting fluffy, thirsting for cool cooling springs. Time is stubbornly dying. And even the loss of petals proclaiming fragility, the proud hope of dawn, scatter its rays more and more humiliatedly, erroneously!

His spiky, unbreakable stem now closes like the sighs of convicts at the last word, his opening, majestic chalice resembling just a shrunken mother! In a room where he had bathed in halo all day, he had enthroned on his sublime lofty throne, someone had placed fresh water in the crystal tube of his vase,
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And when one sins a little and falls into sin: He gurgles chocolates down his throat with unauthorized methods, giving one-person cakes the ultimate honor of such sublime and sublime passions as being in love! To become one: Flour, water, eggs with an immortal yet metaphorically changing dough body, mouth-watering, bohemian distillates, can be created for rebirth! - One can and feels conceived, the subtle, superstitious details do not yet form - only at the cost of hard work -


the whole and thus the re-created Universe is sanctified: A bite of only tastes, smells, and thoughts - a redeeming noble task: To rename people into unity, a common wavelength, if possible!
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How fertile, sniffing now is the serenity. Maybe this is the proud or sublime time of enlightenment, is it so sublime, strange? You can chat here only with mythical signs, hand signals and the quietest! Together they are here: young scholars, wise-looking prophets - monks who have remained with intention and tradition even in recent times. Together they watch the immortal immortality of the letters!

Then they come when the day is over soon and too suddenly over! The inexplicable ancient secret of books rests in letters embedded in letters; offering himself towards complete immortality! - perhaps it is really in this holy place that the remaining ray of hope, its light: The immortal, eternally thirsty thirst of enlightenments?
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But Life doesn't have a fence yet: Founding is still a mistake, and that's my father's biggest problem: "You're very old at the age of thirty! " - he says, and with crying wow screams, begging supplication voices, I should send a message to my mother to encourage and keep encouraging her, - because she fits me very well!

Many were threatened, in many ways with swear-crowd words and all worm-invasions: "No wonder the child doesn't go among people! Make friends! " - Cheap consolation! I should stay true to my fears too! I'm still hanging out in this lifeless and weird age - but I can't cling to fear forever!
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Killing silence, incomprehensible suffocation, dense crowds! He puts his mind to the ground, hopefully Estonian, the sluggish gang. - Eyes: Like empty craters, they yawn, offering melancholy answers. They can show less the lights of gassed, ragged roads and common sense in the brain, they can only indicate Heureka's solutions less often!

The heart is just a pointlessly pounding pump going up and down! The tamed boredom also yawns. He opens his horrible, abandoned mouth, and spikes injure my soul with bouncing whips! Somewhere even into the night, a shoreless squirming one-voice screamed. The dried tree leaves hissed under my feet. Yet they would wish for the ordinary miracle that had won a heartbreak in their hearts: A glow of glass as a stranded, shoreless sacrifice to save us from the filth of cheap, earthly hell!
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Leaves tremble in the wind. Autumn carries its golden chains as leaf scales: Who else knows for how long? hawthorns also tremble in the evergreen shelters of mosses. Even the round cheese continent is freezing in the sky. Dogs are courting howling, poisoning - the summer glow disappeared suddenly! The nose, like a chimney vomiting crimson rhinitis, is swollen and is still dripping with its still unpleasant, killer juices!

An entire week of bed exercise was in vain once the smelt of immunity had weakened. The unbridled wind brings its October heifers with a rebellious whiplash, and in a thickening, milky white mist it is placed on unknown faces in a large arc and firmly despair! "A horse chestnut ponders alone in the craters of forgotten puddles! "
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With your delicate hands you no longer caress me: because I have been waiting for you to cheer me up for all eternal and holy times! Now every holy place where you have ever left the delicate exotic line of your feet empty and landless. You were a skillful and small, mischievous princess, while your morals were tolerated in vain by your side! Behind the eternal disguise of your smile is an unmatchable and proud love.
Your jokes jingled like glass beads, on my knocking heart: And we had no idea what was flowing and sparkling between us; youthful folly, or just immortal transcendence? The unspeakable, superstitious minute was beautiful too, wonderfully beautiful!

And again, gloomy months and years are coming. He keeps his dark Joconda's eyes for someone else as a prostitute of his harlot, and the call "girl" doesn't fit her anymore! Female maturity illuminates the priceless essence of a mother's smile! He never asks me for a child blessing from now on. - The immortal emotion was among us in disguise, and only we could be quiet enough not to listen to you.
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There is a way that I would not escape this now begging Loneliness; I would hide myself in a cell grid! I could also become invisible to the alert self! I think I am skeptical then! My Instincts Whistle Ideas Whisper in My Soul I'm still flying into the glowing plume of a flaming sun in the wake of Icarus! Who can give me the strength to be able to deal with the depths of the gap of my daily worries more boldly! Confidence is hesitant, while I only study with apostate reservations!

I watch the dying glass balls dying in the dewy, factory-smelling mornings; the light, dripping light powder dusts with lust! With squeaky batting, the curious butterfly flies into flames! Pessimism digests everything! He is waking himself up and constantly scattering - that is why he can still be alive - the gaping tomb of Death Gaps! - The haunting Moon brazenly points to a yellowed, lower half! When the seemingly Time also shatters into your present; the Redeeming Peace would unfold its wings!
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