Tag: short poem

  • The Night

    The Night

    The Night

    As the night inherits the sky and the earth from the day
    The stars gleam, brightening the obscurity of the sky
    A thick mist covers forests and gardens, caressing flowers and leaves
    Dark green tints tinge forest trees and meadows
    The misty moon overlooks the bluish-purple landscape
    The silence reigns supreme among the softness of the blooming flowers
    The beauty of nature and the purity of the blossoms are daunting
    The dark blue sky is dotted with glinting stars
    Shards of previous sensations and glimpses of ephemeral happiness crowd into my mind
    A calm and deafening silence pervades the tenebrous darkness
    The reflection of the moon shines on the silvery surface of lakes and rivers
    The obliviousness of the night blends with the mysterious bewilderment of sublimity
    Beauty lies in the concealment of secrets.
    Esther Racah

  • Hypothetical Dreams

    Hypothetical Dreams

    Hypothetical Dreams

    As faint and golden glares stroke me
    I think about a peaceful instant when I can fly away in my hypothetical dreams
    Now and then, I can be myself without pretending to be someone else
    Someone I am not, and I will never be
    Far from society pretences and hypocritical conventions
    Musical notes reach into my soul, which is a convergence of several temperaments
    Wondering how many ways I can live parallel lives
    Wondering how many ways I can detach myself from this foolish reality
    Because I live in my imaginary and hypothetical dreams
    And I’m trapped in a safe hideout
    Hiding is the only way I can protect myself
    Disappearing in the vastness of the universe
    Fragile dreams like thin crystals, which are gleaming in the moonlight
    Being my soul a frail fractal of an imaginary universe of stars
    Lost in abandon and oblivion once my only companion is the solitude
    Now that it is useless to be thoughtful and considerate
    Now that I am not anymore my past self
    I’m different versions of myself
    It is never too late to discover an unusual and astonishing introspectiveness
    Delight and sorrow wrap my soul as I touch purple roses
    Lusting for their beauty and purity
    I can rest forever in my cruel and hypothetical dreams
    Now that the stars whisper in the luxuriant firmament.
    Esther Racah

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