The Dream Peddler - a translation

Scattered, strewn, in the various corners of this desolate city
Dreams, of the down trodden, bent-neck devoid of their content and meaning
Of Which the city dwellers are unaware

I go out searching for them, day and night
To gather them, clean them up,
Rinse out their grim and grime
To burn them in the kiln of my burning heart

Thus, Their countenance would shine like those of bridegrooms on their wedding day.
Perhaps, once again these dreams would get their direction.

I venture out with my crate of dreams,
As I yell out, to the people, "Dreams for sale! Dreams for sale!"

They yell back, " Are they for real? Or are they illusory,"
They gawk at my wares, as though
Only they are the connoisseurs of fables and tales. 

They look, but do not touch.
Thinking, perhaps these dreams are sublime, like mist fleeting as the sun warms the early morning.
They pay no heed to my wares, all the while skirting away. 

Day turns to dusk.
I yell out again,
"Take them for free, just take them off my hands"

They get even more scared and skittish of the prospects of free dreams.
"What sorcery is this?
What vagabondary?
Beware, he says they are free,  but what delusions  these dreams may wrought?"

The night falls,
I return, with my dreams unsold and broken back to my slumber.

As I lay my head down to sleep,
I mumble in my dreams,
"Dreams for sale, dreams, zzzz"

The Hands Tell A Story

Raw, dry with the air, Scratched and scraped, Soft or subtle, with vibrancy of life
the hands tell a story unto their own.

A handshake , calloused palms, each blister akin to the tale from which it boiled forth

The grip, firm to convey a message of steadfastness
Yet sensual when fingers tickle the inside to suggest the desire. 

I look at my own hands, remembering
When as a boy how small the were in my father's own, when held in protection

How I cut myself with a tool as a youth, in a single folly of ineptitude trying to be a man.

And now, as middle age happens upon them
I see my father's past and my own future as though the dryness carts the tracks of my passing time.

I make my future with them by not reading them anymore.

I called you beautiful and you said so was I.

I called you beautiful and you said so was I.
It that moment, it was no lark, no lie.
My heart filled with bliss,  tears to my eye,
As water falls down from the vastness of the sky.

I called you beautiful and you said so was I.
A thousand bells just rang in the steeples of my heart,
That sacred trust, that bond of hope
I yearn to keep, I promise to hold
As the story of our affection is about to be told.

I called you beautiful and you said so was I.
I call out to all that is good and right,
A prayer, a wish, a passionate plight,
For you to be mine, in Divine sight,
As this journey begins on a path bright.

I called you beautiful and you said so was l...

As I wake up to you smiling

The smell of your skin, the scent of your hair
Makes me content, as it fills the air
How I long for you, even though you're next to me
The thought of you, relieves my despair
And lends my broken heart to repair,
As I wake up to you smiling.

You blush when I compliment your innocent face.
I revel in your kindness, your humor, your grace.
You brighten my nights, you lighten my days,
By being yourself, so wonderful in your ways,
As I wake up to you smiling.

I do not know what the future holds,
Spring's warmths or winter's colds,
With you by my side, I'll behold,
The tales that are yet to be told,
As I wake up to you smiling.

I seek my happiness within you.

In the quiet of the night, when all is still
My thoughts wonder about my future.

Though middle age is upon me, I still think with youthful fervor of a love I have yet to receive.

I want to find a quiet spot, at the end of the day to put my hat upon.
With you by my side as we talk about the toils of our day.

How sweet and wonderful those thoughts are,
Dreamlike, perhaps they are just that, a dream.

Though I don't know what the future may bring,
Wraths of winter, or bliss of spring,

I will keep seeking my happiness in you.

A snowy friday morning

A snowy Friday morning and I'm sitting on my breakfast table, watching the flakes fall from the nude branches of the elm tree.

The whirl of a distant fan, a gentle din breaking  the silence of an otherwise quiet day.

You rang me just to say hi early in the morning. I couldn't have asked for a more wonderful wakeup call.

In a long time, I am finally at peace within myself. Happy and content, but somewhat afraid that in a flip of a moment, this can all go away. 

But when one has known so many heartaches,  the anticipation of it doesn't phase me anymore.

I know not, how long this will last, but as long as it does, I'm still happy. 

Or So I Thought...

How does the saying go...

Some people come into your life for a reason, some a season, some a lifetime.

However long it was, be thankful for the gifts,

Or so I thought,

You'd be my shield, my sword, my garment.

My friend, my brother, my beloved,

You'd be there in time of my need, in yearnings , in joy and sorrow.

As I was for you,

Or so I thought.

How your words sweet at the time, those smiles sly, full of mischief,

Left to crumbles of lies and deceit, bonds broken, betrayal treasonous.

I saw you again tonight, like two ships in a night passed, I had nothing in my heart for you...

Or so I thought.