NIGHT OF THE HARLEQUINS


Apocalyptic visions are crossing the descending sky…

Pale grinning harlequins are dancing on crushed windows…

The earth is sighing…

Hideous harlequin silhouettes keep sticking
To dead, impersonal pieces of broken glass…

The night is growling
While the sky is quietly and mysteriously
Dissolving itself into a burning sea
Of writhing corals,
Foretelling in wonder and amazement
The inevitable approach of the last rain…

The ground, old and wrinkled,
Is swinging on waves of melancholy,
Welcoming the restless harlequins’ dancing steps
On its crust
Like a helpless dried out branch
That cherishes with ardour and yearning
The last moment when it is still touched with the blessing
Of feeling the grasp of its beloved origin…

Unique witness to an apocalyptic decaying icon,
The moon is daubing its own faked grinning smile,
Barely hanging on to a thread of rotten silk,
Revealing its true frightening pallor…

The seas surrender to the mighty celestial quake,
Releasing the corals, launching them towards inexistent shores,
Trying to escape the inevitable tempest
Of the harlequins’ mirage.



-SORANA –

Copyrighted © Sorana Salomeia, Iasi, Romania