Where does agate come from?
That woven stone?
From earth’s cauldrons for mineral smelting?
From roaring earthquakes? From volcano fever?
From the Earth’s contractions?
They are sounds of the Mother earth.
He flew in from the constellation of Andromeda,
where his family of stone butterflies’ lives,
which are number one in their beauty for a thousand light years.
He got lost in the endless cosmos and landed on
Earth, to rest for a moment.
He is sad. He mourns with his beautiful colours for
the realm of stone butterflies.
There, they take off at the slightest whiff of scented winds.
Mother Andromeda gave them birth as such, the big red butterfly.
If the blood mineral did not mix
with the Earth through physical contact,
giving offspring of amazing colors and shapes,
the Earth would bereave unexceptional,
and man would desolate in spirit.
A million and one births gave me a baby made of serpentinite decorated with golden threads
of chrysolite.
We both shine in the ecstasy of the oldest sensibility.
Oh, my God,
I have no arms, no legs, no eyes, only my breasts are full of stone milk.
Yes, among dreams,
among eyelashes,
visions, in the lakes of passion.
In the groves of its inimitability.
Take my hand and lead,
my only love.
Take me far, far away,
To the flowery Eden of your soul,
To the only heavenly place,
to the source of the world,
to the Hyksos boson,
in which our names
are carved, from which the universe
and two more planets in your eyes were created.
Planets and comets – sing,
the musicians of the moon – play,
the one from which the Big Bang was arisen,
Let the green protuberant cups burst.
And the shiny goblets of the galaxy.
Let the fiery wine of the cosmos be spilled.
On the wedding sheets of endlessness.
Here she is, she is coming,
Star-tailed star-eyed star-crowned is coming.
With three suns in her eyes.
With nine moons in her bosom.
On the stone painter’s robe are all his paintings.
Scenes of the heavens with birds in the heights
, left-handed streams covered with autumn leaves,
blue distances and rosy dreams.
Three girls walking through a field of flowers.
Windy weather over the lake.
A lonely woman in the window.
A camel rider in the desert.
White sun and three other scenes.
In streams and rivers
on lakes and ponds at the bottom
of extinct time and sad oblivion.
That’s the time
with the twisted legs.
The custom is that travelers bring stones to the peaks of the Andes
as well as to the Alps.
That’s how the Andes and
the Siberian mountains were created.
New people will be born from those stones.
These are from the cave where the bats
lie down from the flock of stones
that fly through the galaxies of the mind.
They will never stop flying
because there is nothing to land
on but a man’s hand.
Which contact is forbidden because it will flood far away.
An aura of good radiates around her.
As the evil approaches,
the aura turns into stone.
The old hedonist chased Juno, the goddess around Serbia,
who did not let him slip all of his passion
between the divine legs, finally the time has come.
Even now it has the scent of the divine seed and the trapped echo of unattainable longing.
As they enjoy roasted chestnuts under the moonlight
While they run barefoot through
the river of transience,
They love each other everywhere and always
And that’s why they have thousands of galaxies.
Translucent will fly off to the sky
when a green rainbow appears on it.
Transparent stones will fly together.
And disappear into space from
where it flew once upon a time.
For whom so many patterns on the dress,
stone woman?
For whom is the necklace around the neck?
Why the sacrifice of chastity?
The mind of man carries within itself a sky full
of galaxies and billions of stars.
He who reaches the powers of the cosmos of the mind will
open the secret doors of our psyche
and bring salvation to the human race.