XXLove letters

 

 

 When a miracle happened in the alley of modern Sodom,

 

My eyes were nailed on the explosion of colors,

The rag doll of compassion, the bundle of  silk,

Her ghostly body consisted of sugared condensed air,

Some people skirted around,

Others forgot good manners,

They passed through her with perfect ease,

 

Somebody's hand touched an emperor sofa,

She wasn't astonished at all,

Life after death didn't differ from Life,

Except for dead bodies,

They didn't differ from hers,

They lay on black marble tables,

 A glazed partition was between Life and Death,

Her body was there once,

A long line of people was waiting,

They didn't differ,

All busily scurrying clients looked as dead as she was,

 

I stared at her straight brown hair thoroughly slicked back,

At her close-set eyes, a slightly receding chin, a longish nose,

She couldn't brag about beauty,

She couldn't brag about talents,

Thanks to your brush a charwoman had value,

Rising against a widespread belief,

Every woman in Paris had her jingling price,

 

Her eyes got a glimpse of the future,

 They still looked out onto the past,

             Life in the store didn't grow on her each and every day,  

She didn't like it as she used to do,

She believed that her life could be better,

It didn't need many beautiful things,

It was outside the packed to the brim with bargains stores,

 

 

I tried to find courage,

To take the right breath,

To tell everything the last time I couldn't tell you,

How much I missed you,

I missed your laughter,

I missed the way you sat on the chair,

The way you grabbed my chin,

 

Now and then entangled,

All sounds mixed up,

Busy cars whizzed off down the road,

 Who bothered to look out what was on the other side?  

We didn't effect a crossing,

We didn't need to cross,

We shared the same alley of modern Sodom,

I found lost love looking deeply into your eyes.

 

 

 

XXLove letters

 

 

 

When the poetry of Jack the Ripper, Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde just began,

 

 

 

My breath balanced and tight rope walked,

You were proud and a little bit insecure,

You pulled the bed sheet away to reveal my insanity in insanity of your work,

You had painted life after death,

It was neither Hell nor Paradise,

It occurred every day,

It was close at hand,

It was near,

 

 

She sat on the floor like a beast that was scared,

 She wore a printed silk charmeuse robe,

You had painted a ghost in the antique shop,

It was superb,

She looked exactly like Francoise,

All in all God is kind,

He sent her to Paradise situated on Earth,

Paradise in Montmartre,

The name of the painting was Pop that is Paradise or prison,

 

Your Francoise didn't know,

People must share their failures with their loved ones,

It is the way they move on,

Francoise loved stories and fairy tales with happy endings,

Poor woman did not understand,

Why people leased other hearts,

Why they leased theirs,

The most devalued currency is human feelings,

So ignorance wasn't her fault,

 

She forgot what she used to dream about,

On rare occasions she tried to recollect,

The day we met her,

She was too quiet,

If she recollects her dreams,

She will be able to leave and live in peace somewhere else,

In the place with no stores,

 

It was the first story we wrote together,

It became an aquarelle,

It wasn't about ghosts,

It wasn't about femme de ménage,

It was about consumption,

Borrowed vanity, empty ambitions,

Disappointment and sorrows,

Horrors of modern life.

 

P.S. When the sea turtle became wolf grey,

But it should have been turquoise.

 

XXLove letters

 

 

When words per minute became heartbeats,

 

 

The night of inspiration found me typing,

I was obsessed with time,

I typed like crazy,

I leave everything to the last minute,

I copied muses and musings,

Copied by somebody else,

A drama's name was too pretentious,

A writer baptized it 'Dead line',

 

You called me before I was ready to gallop,

I had to deliver some writing stuff,

People thronged streets whipping fog to creamy morning,

Caffeine pushed me forward,

You won't believe me,

A typist can be a glamorous job,

Of course, it depends on what you type,

 

When you typewrite a famous author,

He is confident in himself,

He had a floating staff of heroes and villains,

He is ready to push a magic button,

They can be mobilized at any moment,

The professional cares about his readers,

Faithfully rendering feelings, crimes, smiles,

He keeps the middle class pleased,

 

 

Some novice writers are cocky,

They love creating hype,

Some novice writers are smooth,

Their tongues are timid,

Their style is plastic,

They don't write the poetry of Jack the Ripper,

The fear of rejection is a refrain,

All their thoughts are written in lower case,

 

I ran up the dirty stairs,

My heart pounded in my head,

The stairs were too narrow,

The hallway was long,

I had never climbed wide stairs,

I had never walked a wide road,

Until I kissed your lips,

I saw the ocean to be blood red,

 

She was behind a bed sheet,

She was draped in anticipation,

She was doomed to become a huge success,

Your widest road to hell,

Don't ask me 'Have you ever seen the full moon at midnight?’

I had never seen anything full,

Before I met you,

Since then I've been growing flowers and picking thorns.

 

XXLove letters   

 

 

When you painted your first watercolor in Paris,

 

 

The misery room fleeted in glow of candles,

You are so romantic when it comes to your work,

You love working at night,

Night hides you from your worries,

That night magical heavy paper was attached to a wooden board,

 

A sketchbook felt useless,

You didn't need it,

You could painted her at a stroke,

Watercolors cried out for daylight,

It didn't matter,

You had an awesome technique,

You invented your own baroque,

 

You worked with water and pigments,

As if you painted with oil,

Your aquarelles were juicy and stoned,

They brimmed over with dense colors,

Unlike almost transparent strokes of other artists,

The texture of paper was banned from lurking behind colored spots,

 

You took care of every little detail,

Mistakes were washed out,

Highlights and shadows fell down,

Directly on wet paint,

It was very painstaking and utterly time- consuming,

One day you would be rewarded,

Harvesting admiration and taking all breaths away,

 

You were the first, who was delighted,

She looked as if she was alive,

Darkness had no time for inspiration and sinners,

The sunrise was near,

In the adjoining room,

It's not easy to love Paris,

But it's easy to fall in love,

 

Overnight you became several centuries wiser,

Something was burning and stabbing your chest,

You put aside a brush,

The world woke up,

The image got vague and slipped away,

Mind was an ugly insider,

'Never ignore a vision,

It visits us only once',

 

A housewarming party was thrown by muses,

In your honor,

You was the one,

Your stomach was empty,

Your soul was dizzy,

The roof was leaking,

Contented you fell asleep,

It wasn't heavy rain,

It was universal grace filling you with joyful bliss.

XXLove letters   

 

 

 

When there were a lot of wishes floating around,

 

 

Naive Francoise decided to follow the turquoise turtle's route,

Gathering up crumbs of timeless magic,

She knew where to start,

It was the shimmering sea in the moonlight,

She got confused,

Mistaking the glowing sea for the shopping arcades of Paris,

 

She walked down the grandeur of the Boulevard Montmartre,

No dirty streets,

Not trashy alleys,

It was a shelter from rain and mud,

Rain had been falling all day,

Evening was shabby and grey,

All girls adored the Passage des Panoramas,

It was classy and chic Paris,

 

Eclectic goods, a motley crowd,

Freezing and hungry girls gaping at dresses and crinolines,

The hundreds of jewelers’ windows were sparkling with diamonds and precious stones,

A well-disguised protégé with the attitudes of the actress dragged her patron around from shop to shop,

He had a well-lined wallet,

She couldn't stop asking not being interested in his opinion,

She obsessively asked what looked better on her,

 

The hard-working servant’s great expectations didn’t turn out exactly the way she wished,

They turned their back on the poor charwoman,

It recycles big bins full of inhuman brains and human hopes,

We travel from ruins to ruins,

Life isn't what it looks to be,

The more we expect the less we get,

 

Capricious life kicks and resists,

Sometimes it pushes us over and down,

Right in the misty abyss,

Under turning wheels of misfortune,

Mercilessly grinding us up,

Timeless death is the worst,

It lives somewhere far in the orchard,

But instant death is always awesome,

It's ready to help,

It doesn’t make a deal,

 

Francoise hoped for little color,

For little moonlight to find a path to the tale,

But everything grew wolf grey,

It was so strange,

She didn't hear a sound,

She didn't feel pain,

She didn't feel sorrow,

After all instant death was awesome,

While she was crossing the road,

An aristocrat carriage ran over her.