Dragon’s Words

Words, written long ago or in the moment that just passed, carefully polished or done in a blink of an eye, while the feeling is fresh.

I’m not a poet, no. Writing is a way of healing, coping, surviving.

Some of poems were written recently, some decades ago. Many of them entered this world in my mother tongue that is quite different from English, having different structure, even some of features that don’t exist in most other languages. I do my best to translate those poems, but it can never sound the same. There are nuances of meanings, rhythm, taste… I can only hope the translation is good enough. It can never be perfect. But I’ve decided not to publish it in my mother tongue, I chose this blog instead. It will have to do.

Most of poems, if I may call them that at all, could probably be labeled as “love poems”, and yes, most of them are an expression of pain or hurt, longing, wishing, dreaming. Some are (mildly, in my opinion, but I acknowledge we have different criteria) erotic or sexual. If that is something you, Reader, find inappropriate or unwanted, you should know they are not specifically labeled or marked.

  • Thank you

    Thank you for all the moments when thought of you made me less lonely.

    And thank you for making me see how lonely I am.

    Thank you for showing me hope.

    And thank you for not encouraging it.

    Thank you for all the sweet words.

    And thank you for all the painful lessons I’ve learnt knowing you.

    Thank you for allowing me be me.

    And thank you for being you.

    I cannot thank you for what was not… I wish I could.

    Alenka H., 2023

  • Our love story was short

    Our love story was short,
    ending almost before it began,
    but that doesn’t make it any less real,
    that doesn’t make it any less true.
    Only a few lines, only a few words,
    yet in those words all our hearts lived and died.
    You were my lover for those few nights,
    I was your mistress for those few days –
    thank you, my love, for a heartbeat of us.

    Alenka H., 2022

  • We could

    We could spend our days
    smiling at each-other,
    caressing our souls
    with tender words and looks.
    We could spend our time
    sharing secrets of life,
    celebrating each gentle touch
    across the universe of love.
    We could spend our lives
    being thankful for each breath
    that keeps us together,
    ’till the next birth.

    We could.
    We don’t.
    We won’t.

    Why?

    Alenka H., 2021

  • Sometimes

         Sometimes in my mind

    (quietly
    (as if I am too shy
    (well, I am
    (because it is
    as it is)
    and I admit it)
    and I am afraid)
    and secretly)

         I say to you

         ”You know”

    (even when I’m aware
    (I know you this well
    (do you still remember those times
    (oh, If I could ever again
    share them with you!)
    and those places?)
    and you know me)
    you already know),

         ”I love you.”

    Alenka H., 2000-2010, translation

  • Mmm

    It’s the sweetest of secrets
    that my mmm
    is for you.

    Alenka H., 2022

  • Would we?

    Would we age together,
    if we were given the time?
    Would we walk side by side,
    if we would have our place?

    If we would be given a day,
    would we make it eternal?
    If we would be able to touch,
    would we make it last?

    I better not wonder,
    I better not ask.
    But something inside me
    still hopes that we might.

    Alenka H., 2021-2022

  • I’d paint us a heaven

    I’d paint us a heaven,
    but you said “No, thanks”.
    I offered my magic,
    but you turned me down.
    What more do you want?
    There’s nothing a god
    or the devil could give
    that I don’t.
    You know it.
    I know it.
    You still let me go.

    Alenka H., 2021

  • She

    Sometimes I’d like to ask you:
    Do you think of her?
    Is she with you, are you with her,
    when you are with me?
    Do you imagine it’s her mouth
    that take you,
    it’s her warmth
    that makes you burn?
    When the pleasure I give you
    makes you close your eyes – do you see her?
    I do not know her, I do not even know if she is,
    yet I have an inkling: she has to be, certainly!

    Alenka H., 2000-2010, translation

  • Gift

    I’ll take what is left
    of my heart,
    I’ll melt it and make
    a word out of it,
    a line or a rhyme.
    I’ll make it my gift,
    a present for you.
    I’ll wrap it in paper,
    I’ll put a nice bow on it
    and leave it on your doorstep.
    Nobody will be able to steal it,
    in any other hands it will
    become dust.
    But if you don’t take it
    it will die at your feet.

    Alenka H., 2022

  • I dreamt of you

    I dreamt of you.

    You didn’t say much.

    You never do.

    I’m the one talking, am I not?

    So you didn’t say much, no…

    How strangely real for a dream.

    It was wonderful and it was sad.

    It was lovely and it was bitter.

    It was comforting and it hurt.

    It was love and it was loneliness.

    I dreamt of you.

    And you didn’t say much.

    Alenka H., 2023

  • If I would be brave

    If I would be brave,
    I would tell you I need you,
    I need you, not some day,
    I need you today.
    If I would be brave,
    I would ask you to hold me,
    To hold me, not later,
    To hold me right now.
    If I would be brave,
    I would ask for your comfort,
    Your comfort, not distance,
    Your comfort right here.
    If I would be brave
    I would tell you I’m hurting.
    I’m hurting, I’m dying.
    I am not brave.

    Alenka H., 2021

  • Go

    I sense your departure in your smile.

    It smells like the first autumn rain,

    like the first winter frost.

    It sounds like the war drums,

    like the funeral trumpet.

    And I know I cannot make you stay.

    Not matter how hard I try to stop the water,

    the river will always flow to the sea.

    No matter how hard I squeeze my eyelids,

    the morning will always come.

    And I know I don’t want to make you stay.

    Birds have to fly to the south

    to stay warm.

    Leaves have to fall from trees

    to nurture the roots with new soil.

    And you have to go.

    Alenka H., 2023

  • You, still

    You were not the first one, were not the last one,
    but somewhere in between… you still are.
    You see, this is not poetry –
    no, this is a letter to you,
    you, whom I feel tonight
    as I have for only a brief moment.
    With my tears
    all the love I cannot give to you
    is pouring into universe.
    To you that I’m hiding
    to keep at least what I have.
    It hurts, the part of me
    that is you – it hurts so much I cannot breathe.
    I wasn’t more sincere with anyone,
    yet I didn’t hide more from anyone either.
    I was travelling across the shores of love
    that could not be stronger,
    I’ve crossed the seas of passion…
    but still, somewhere in between… you still are.
    I’ve told you as I haven’t to anyone before,
    but I haven’t told you what was true the most.
    If you’d ask me, I might even deny it.
    I might. But I know you never will.
    I can barely remember, how…
    I’m lying. Maybe I don’t remember,
    but through all days and nights
    I still feel
    that fleeting moment of you…
    Maybe we never were
    and I don’t want to believe we will never be,
    but somewhere in between… you still are.
    You are still in my days and nights,
    yours are still my tears and my laughter,
    my pain and my joy…
    I’m still yours.

    Alenka H., 2000-2010, translation

  • I loved you

    I loved you in silence,

    I loved without fear.

    I loved you from distance,

    I loved you when near.

    I loved you with fire,

    I loved you like flame.

    I loved with desire

    that I could not tame.

    I loved you so deeply.

    I loved you so slow.

    I loved you completely.

    I loved like a wow.

    I loved you in daylight,

    I loved you at night.

    I loved you as sun bright,

    I loved without fight.

    I loved you as loudly

    as lion would roar;

    I loved you as freely

    as eagle would soar.

    I loved you and loved you

    and loved you some more.

    I loved you, and now

    I don’t love anymore.

    Alenka H., 2023

  • Too hard to cry

    Some of them laughed.
    All of them hurt.
    None of them cried.

    It is too hard to cry
    when every day
    someone beside you
    might die.

    Dedicated to everyone I met at hospitals I stayed at – all the patients that each in their own way faced pain, fear and hope.

    Alenka H., 2022

  • Song

    If I try hard enough
    I can still feel the breeze of your breath
    On my heart.
    Only with closed eyes
    I can hear
    Your touches gliding over me,
    Luring the song from my body,
    The song with no words, of pure silence,
    The only song pure enough
    To be sung for you.

    Alenka H., 2021

  • Today the sun is shining

    Today sun is shining,
    but my eyes see no light.
    Darkness is covering
    every breath of my world.
    I want to call out
    for someone to help,
    but my voice doesn’t carry,
    it dies on my lips.
    The loudest of screams
    are silent and deaf.

    Alenka H., 2022

  • How would you respond?

    I’d touch you… Explore you… Draw my fingers over you… Feel every inch. Slowly, gently, and fast and strong. With fingers in your hair… Your eyes, your cheeks. With my lips and my tongue following my fingers. Lowering from your face, passing your neck… How do you feel? How do you smell? How do you taste? Would you want me to taste you? How does your heartbeat feel, if I kiss your neck? Would you allow me, no, would you want me to go lower? To cross your body, touch it and feel it and see how it responds to me… How do you breathe, if I put my palms to your chest and wait for every inhale, every exhale, while I look into your eyes? If I kiss you, can I feel it in your belly? Does your body talk to me, even if your words don’t? If I travel south, does it tell me what you like, what you want, even if you don’t say it? Would your eyes show me? If I’d touch and kiss, how would you respond? Would you say the same as your eyes, your breath, your heartbeat, your body? Oh, I believe those would all tell me… But would your words say the same? Because I’d talk to your soul and your body with my fingers, my breath, my lips, my tongue. How would you respond?

    Alenka H., 2021

  • Let me

    Let me kiss your fingers,
    fingers that touch my body,
    fingers that bristle my hair,
    fingers that search the sparkles,
    fingers that invite me to you.

    Let me kiss your mouth,
    mouth that warm my skin,
    mouth that moisture my dreams,
    mouth that caress my shivering,
    mouth that invite me to you.

    Let me kiss your body,
    body that is pressed to mine,
    body that dances with mine,
    body that unites with mine,
    body that invites me to you.

    Let me kiss you,
    let me love you,
    oh, love you,
    you, your body,
    you, the whole you,
    you, here and now,
    and let us become
    the answer to why.

    Alenka H., around 2000, translation

  • Maybe I would

    Maybe I would fight for more,
    maybe I would.
    But I’m too broken, too tired,
    I’m too worn out,
    and all I want to do now
    is sit under this tree
    until it comes back to dust
    and takes me with it.

    I pray for the lighting
    to strike once again,
    this time with fire
    that burns out the bones.
    I know, from the ashes
    a new tree will grow,
    and I’ll find my peace
    as food for it’s fruit.

    Alenka H., 2021