Nadine Schönfeld. Neon people, neon dances.

A man of Zakulis, I beg you,
tell me,
How does a neon wind tear off targets?
I'm on the edge of the cliff,
Along the lines of life
Running away
Through the walls of night dreams.

Take me back there,
Where there is no snow,
Where the silver waterfall is carrying
To the ocean ...
Where dreams are surreal,
Where the wet
Touches his lips with the hands of a creeper.

You are a lucky warrior
Named Maro,
I'm Zeudi Araya,
From a predatory clan.
My totem on the thigh is the genus of Jaguar,
And the tattoo on your shoulder is Iguana.

Primitive odors
Melting inaudibly
On the hunt.
You're strong, I'm clever, close.
And, frightening the hummingbirds hanging motionless,
Scream of a lemur
Flies over the tropical hell.

Time of warm monsoons
On the skin with a tan.
Call of blood will not let go, and strange countries ...

I'll be back
In this fierce roar of a jaguar
And in a swift run through the water iguanas ...


Mira Griss