Avinar - 2005 - Painting Of Nought (Picture I)
Burial Of A Torn

I'm benighted, fallen, torn
spent in sorrow's narrow depths
I've passed from deads land's depths
isn't a grave deeper than here
o black ray, shine to me
I am torn, for many years
o earth, inter me in thyself
make my grave overflowing from soil
till never exist the depths of grief

Dead Brain Of Nature

his dark chalet's cuckoo clock stops
and the fifth season becomes eternal for him
time had seized the prize of his face and body
and left him in depths of his lost intellectuality
winds of salvation didn't laugh in that season
and nature had sang only the myth of his season
he had been imprisoned in dead brain of nature's songs
imprisoned, abandoned in unheard myth of nihility

Wishless Death

i'm jealous to the twisted older trees
because there isn't a thing I twist that
i'm jealous to this grave I slept
because it's not my bosom where to sleep
i'm jealous to the river creeps on earth
because there isn't a hope for creep
i'm jealous to the winds of gray woods
because I've not a power to whisper
i'm jealous to this white wide winter
because there isn't a white spot in my spirit
i'm jealous to the falling of my tears
because here isn't height in the end of depths
i'm jealous to myself of mourner
because there isn't a mourn for myself
i'm jealous to death (which) is my wish
because there isn't a death wishes me