Poems byMarija Najthefer Popov

Poems by Marija Najthefer Popov
All my erogenous zones
Were on my back …
They still are behind me
But, no one walks,
No one even breathes warmly
Behind my neck …
I don’t look back anymore …
If you want forgiveness,
Look into my eyes,
Where thorns are pinned,
Tears are suffocated-
They make me strong as I step ahead,
Guessing a way out somewhere
In this darkness.
I ignore the sound familiar,
I feel soft fall of the steps that follows me,
To get back me again …
Don’t you understand?
Yes, the one who steps behind,
Can never come back,
He has only arrived,
If he hurries in touching my back
And so he carries me, suddenly,
By the touch and breath,
In his repentance, it is stupidity…
Love is never sinful, nor is dear God,
Not even people are …
I don’t want to look back,
Because I would see you,
So I know I would stop,
And begin waiting for you again,
Forever, this is how my life goes on,
Now I don’t want
To feel your hands, on my back,
Not your breath on my neck…
The Last One
Where are you?
You are the last of those all
Who met me on the way of love,
I’m preparing,
And all that is ugly to pack,
I leave it here as a part of myself,
Let it be so,
Though I love my sweet memories.
Now you have come on the way…
In a dream, I dream for the eternal life
And in flight I go around
In the moments of carnal existence…
I wait you as a last lover,
Ready to go the way, hand in hand,
Without any fear, without looking back…
Do it quietly, deftly!
Let them not grieve long,
My loved ones,
And those who followed me,
Waved at me joyfully,
The newlyweds who meet on the way…
We touch fire
And when one thinks of the touch,
Fries everything and divides us
While on the skin touches hot…
We stumble like wind,
Which clears everything,
On the road and as we lie
The srorm separatses us,
It is eager to swallow …
And it whips on our veins
Blood gets boiled,
And scampers through the body
The mind goes crazy …
We desire,
Satire, passion, cork distance
I feel you in me with a fiery sword,
While you burn the womb until morning…
I’m Following You
In the morning,
I raise my hand first in the air
Which opens up, on me,
It touches the eyes,
Caresses the face,
Tickles the nostrils,
Loves lips, med-pelvis, unaware
That they are my insomnia …
It bothers you,
A wave coming from the open sea
Whispers – I love you…
Touches me, not to break,
Not to convert the sharp cliffs
Into pearly drops which caress
Your soles in the first morning,
Stepping ahead, unaware
Yes they are the scattered gems
Of my necklaces,
Dispersed by despair,
Along the sides of your paths,
Along all those streets where I’m not…
I’m following you, quietly,
But never in vain, nor to discover you!
I and you are impersonal
And nameless too…
He’s not coming,
If you say there is no truth,
If he is comimg for you,
I shall only be a crying woman…
My tears are the tears,
Of all betrayed women,
All tears are mine.
I scream in despair when I scream,
I screame like a wounded woman left alone…
He does not seek peace,
In my soul, and his restlessness,
Cries in me, like mine,
In another woman…
As I am an abandoned
My tears do not matter!
Don’t take me merely as a skin,
You don’t roll over, no trace,
If you don’t purify my soul,
Drain my heart and thought each ….
I will not be on your pillow,
By my name only to breathe,
And on each each movement,
To emit smell and smell you,
To sculpt me into you body …
I will not give my tears to you,
Only to delete!
Don’t trample the grass tonight,
The steps of flight above my vigils,
Don’t hunt for shadows,
Your wings are the flames of sin,
Treacherous, widely crucified
On all four sides of the world
where you cunningly weave
A spider’s web…
Oh, dear adulterer, naive as a child,
You wake up like a comet…
To each, for my desire,
I usually fly, but invisible…
Let others want –
I have my own feather color
In your silky lap,
On the side of the heart
when they are not crucified…
A Memory
I hear as if the years rustle,
Under my thoughts like dried leaves,
As I take them back,
Like the pages of a book,
Before he end,
And I begin to remember,
The forsaken factions,
From the beginning of the end of story…
This side where I stand ,
As a rule, comes out of nowhere,
As the main path goes down to you,
And brings to you
Joy and hope to the heart,
It ennobles you and gives
A short rest in your life…
I hear you – you’re banging your forehead,
Remembering the beginning…
Close that book! I won’t come to you!
For all is left far behind,
And now nothing is hand,
Neither the beginning, nor the end.

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