Poetry
"The psychology of creativity is a very interesting and extremely complex subject"
Shakespeare’s sonnets, it seems to me, have been created on purpose to be sung. They are just perfectly melodic, rhythmically and metrically calculated to be followed by music and easily lend themself for the singing. For my very first experiments with the sonnets, I’ve just allowed the Shakespearean syntax to guide my musical imagination. I’ve followed the way of intuition and free association to compose an accompaniment and the theme for each sonnet, to create an acoustic atmosphere in tune with the poetic imagery. Purely instrumental music is very seldom illustrative in a specific, concrete way, but stays always above any specified concept or image, therefore any interpretation of it remains subjective. The literary language, the words are usually specific enough, or, at least, every word has a clearly defined and universally accepted range of meaning. But the Shakespeare’s sonnets, as more or less the entire Renaissance art, are very formal, much more formal than it can appear for a superficial reading. Even when the verses sound intimately, it’s always about the play between the personal, specific and universal. I find the parallel between the poetry of Shakespeare and the music of Bach – noble, “high” sentiments, which can be attributed to everyone in general and to no one in particular.
Anyway, I’ve learnt a lot in terms of the alliance between the word and the music while working with sonnets. In my own texts I always look for the generalities, for the images which are more like symbols or archetypes than like my or someone else personal and specific experience. Of course, the sources of inspiration for every writer can be both very intimate, coming from the inside of one’s mind, and very universal, impressed by the observation or by the studying. The psychology of creativity is a very interesting and extremely complex subject. The most curious fact about it, that the inspiration, the creative ideas are absolutely unpredictable. You can, to a certain point, stimulate your imagination, your mental activity, but you can’t just order to yourself to be inspired. It comes when it wants, and often goes when you most need it. Very in vogue today computer algorithms do not know this problem, they can generate non-stop their soulless and sterile opuses. And this is another very complex, but with a negative sign, issue.
Below, instead of recounting what can recount for itself, I offer to your attention and consideration the lyrics of some of my already released songs.
Carbonado
From the album "Off the record" - 2026
Playing and displaying
I masterly hide what you’ll see anyway,
But at first explain me,
How come it’s so easy for you to betray?
The assets of your soul,
Are they still worth at all?
A pound of lie, who wants to buy?
Surely, not I.
Measuring your chances,
You simply pretended there wasn’t my part.
But with all advances,
Of trust and of truth you are total bankrupt.
What in your turbid heart
Will you do with this art
Which made me once believe enough
In phantom love?
Things that shine when distant
At close often look so frustratingly black,
And with every instant Your words carbonado-like hang round my neck.
Just a gleam in the night
Borrowed from my own light,
No less, no more, for me alone
Was this black stone.
Eosphorus
Entrust me your aberrant eyes
And I’ll show you what I see
Unendurable light, it’s Eosphorus comes for me,
My appointment with the end.
Soon by and by will be unmasked
Invisibility of time.
Cant’t you see it everywhere?
It’s like millions of strings
Sending forth the floods of light,
Vibrating choirs of life.
Out of my off the record files
Incandescence of the truth
Erases promises and lies,
With inexorable bounty
Restituting to the fate
My soul as a clean slate.
When on the pages of my past
Other hands will leave their warmth,
Other eyes will search for words,
Turn the clepsydra upright
But do not turn blind again,
You won’t turn blind again!
Sunset
If one day you will feel tired, come to my heaven
On the deep see by the wild wind tormented ship will find it’s haven, one day.
It doesn’t matter I’ve come too late and missed the sunrise
For final date I am in time.
I am not afraid go home alone after this sunset.
Give me your hand – time of my life shall pass till I follow you
Drink the last rays of the Sun going down
Don’t be afraid.
Crystal Secret
Let me touch crystal secret
On your pulse, I feel time flowing away
And I can’t stop it for you,
stop it for us.
Look at me when oblivious wind
Will whisper you the truth of false decision,
I want to share, but I can’t,
This marble load,
Your marble load.
Privilege not to think for myself
You granted me, and beeing not ungrateful,
Now I invite you to see
And enjoy my feast,
Enjoy our feast.
You believed to know better than me
Where and how I should be happy,
But through my fingers your time
Silky flows away,
Time flows away.
Velvet War
Who’s here to understand? And who to hide the truth?
Or maybe you’re afraid, afraid to lose?
We’ll follow our steps back to the sleeping past
Which you postponed to sense – but now you must.
It was just one lie more that hurt me nonetheless,
You think you can’t abhor for one caress?
For you just one lie more, for me the gilded dust
Spent in a velvet war to kill my trust.
If you still think that this life is just a game
Make sure you are not at stake yourself,
If I am just a souvenir of one bygone love
Keep this little gift from your trophy wife.
You feel it, can you feel it –
Tears converting into the ice?
I’ve been dazzled by thick frost reflecting sun
When it suddenly melted into the slush.
I love you, I still love you,
And I hate myself for this love.
If you still think that our love was just a game
Beware of being put at stake yopuself,
If for you all our days are just spoils of war
Why then to disown what you lusted for?
You touch me, when you touch me
Oh, I hate myself for my love.
If I’m just a souvenir of one bygone love
Keep this little gift from your trophy wife.
Flowers of the Meadow
Rainbow-colored field
Smiling on the wind:
Children of the Sun hail me.
Not committed to anyone
Their beauty will be its own revenue,
And completing one cycle of life
Happily die embracing the absolute.
There’s no one who can
Take the flowers of the meadow
Wildflowers in the fields no one can take.
Breathing in the scent,
Fancying what is meant
By this polychrome, I walk
Overwhelmed by immensity
My soul only wishes in this whole to dissolve,
Sun is shedding its golden tears
On my open palm and flower of life starts to grow.
There’s no one who can
Take the flowers of the meadow
Wildflowers in the fields no one can take.
Fairy Tales of Night
Again this night has left you with the utmost uneasiness.
Bright and brighter, deadly light will shadow her silhouette…
Your torpid struggle to stay alive till the night comes again has begun.
Fairy tales of night hold nyou tight,
Fairy tales of night hold you tight,
Enchanted…
Her name is “choris onoma”,
Her voice is a rustle of dust from icy stars.
Almost dying, you willingly give yourself up to this dice
Where all your chances as you touch them turn ivory white before your eyes.
Fairy tales of night hold nyou tight,
Fairy tales of night hold you tight,
Enchanted…
Firefly
What, in silent darkness, blinks so friendly and shy?
Playing with my fingers, is your soul – firefly.
Guide me, guard me,
Stay by my side!
I am no more
Afraid of night.
Whispered, I remember, not “adieu” but “goodbye”,
I am forever sheltered by your soul – firefly.
Guide me, guard me,
Stay by my side!
I am no more
Afraid of night.
Silently descending like the stars from their heights,
We will shine together, our souls – fireflies.
Guide me, guard me,
Stay by my side!
I am no more
Afraid of night.
Wind Turns the Page
Unlock the door,
And let the wind turn the page,
Be a sage,
From heavy strain of the guilt your heart to
Assuage,
To die and to be born again,
Burn in the flames of the time all your pain.
Let in the wind
And see how it turns the page,
To the stage of peace your mind finally came through the
Rage, through the tears,
Now you can smile again,
Burnt on the flames of the time all your pain.
Dawn and Sundown
Game is at the end –
And looks just insignificant
This settling of scores.
You’ve got my loss
And I the whole world you won’t have.
Everything divided nothing
Opens golden mean before me,
For which your sight
Has always been too narrow or too wide.
Goodbye then, see you again
Where light bursts through frontiers of darkness,
Where in the whole simply will be no face to recognise.
See you again, when time has lost its veil
And the dawn will smile against the sunset
He travels light, who keeps no weight of memories.
Debt is overpaid –
To save your credibility inflated with the void,
And to secure your dubious claim, you must delete me.
Goodbye then, meet yiu again
Where breath together dawn and sundown,
Where no device our former titles will identify.
Meet you again and I will mock this spell
As every dawn mocks the sunset.
To choose my end is not the task of destiny.
My Golden Afternoon
What I’ve learnt from life is simple –
Don’t presume on your beliefs,
And do never ask of people
Things they haven’t right to give.
Where this wind will blow tomorrow?
Every prime expires so soon –
So I step without sorrow
Into my golden afternoon.
Winds and wings belong together,
Fly, my mind, I follow you
To the land where purple heather
Will caress my hands anew.
Where this wind will blow tomorrow?
Every prime expires so soon –
So I step without sorrow
Into my golden afternoon.
Where this wind will blow tomorrow?
Every prime expires so soon –
So I step without sorrow
Into my golden afternoon.
Easy Dawn
I wait for the dawn
Amidst a thousand silences,
I breathe in the darkness,
Stung with lights – stung with lights
Now i look for a way
Not to let myself slip
Inside the easy nature
Of falling asleep
Now I must think
Teasing the minutes,
Digging in myself,
Finding solutions.
Failed standard bearer of thought,
Livid wreck on the shore,
The morning surprises me,
I pour over my papers.
Now I must think
Teasing the minutes,
Digging in myself,
Finding solutions.
Some Thousand Days Without You
Life would be much easier if we just could delete corrupted
files from our memory and replace them…
How it would be nice, if we could have a two-way ticket
into the past and undo those fatal mistakes…
But in this world of crooked mirrors
All that remains is just some thousand days without you…
To leave this world of crooked mirrors
I need to wait just
Some thousand days without you…
Plush toy has a secret and speaks with the velvety voice
that hurts and caresses me mercilessly…
Bookmark piece of paper saying “I miss you” – but I missed so much more,
‘Cause I’ve missed your end just as your beginning…
‘Cause in this world of crooked mirrors
All that remains is just some thousand days without you…
And in this world of crooked mirrors
I need to wait just
Some thousand days without you…
And in this world of crooked mirrors
I need to wait just
Some thousand days without you…
In this world of crooked mirrors
All that remains is just
Some thousand days without you…
Unfinished Picture
Unfinished picture, what a useless question – “why, oh why?”
You’re searchinf for the truth, but what for?
Suspended, interrupted flight of someone’s hopes and thoughts,
How can you know where to start from?
Its authors have disappeared , abandoned canvas, frozen lines,
Steps, gestures, looks, movements.
You can imagine thousands of ends, but now I tell
You’re not mistaking even one.
Someone spent life just to forget the way back to this moment
Which now you’re puzzling yourself with.
Leave it, oh please, and spare me from this interrogatory,
My peace has cost me dear.
The same as you I used to ask myself “why, oh why?” –
Useless question, useless question…