one flying in the air and he is well
he has wings he has a beak

one shout in the yard behind the Trash
he has a mustache he has a tail

one shot through the jungle and roars as durns
he has the stripes he has a muzzle

one runs past me and warm sparkle
he has a coast he is a bridge

one dripped dripping his hands are wet
he he twigs with leaves

one stretching and shaking behind the great effort
he blocks he has a street

one limping towards me as hooked as sadness
he must think he is stupid

one was a mighty one was great
he has a casket he is at peace

One after their stay at a little more
he is a tower with a cross up

CAKA imitation. RIGA HEAD

Riga at night - oh, dark head
with gray hair illuminating streets,
the Daugava virmuļojošo track
among those with falls across the bridges and locks,

your thoughts about you
the combs -
may I touch you tonight?

Thought and bill a crowded head -
Combs was probably not work -
the greenish tree trimmers,
to breathe fresh and thorough hand
I\'d like you to cut back a little bit,
the trees are your graying for example.

To grow trees as high
Purvciema the largest houses -
sekvojas,
baobabs,
greens to your saglaustu
masters Sirma errors.

PĻAVNIEKI

Cows were grazing there ever - even today ox
Small shops along the small runs trot

oh noskretušās confused cows
there are now a large construction takes place

Can you see kustons:
there are now piles driven
the poles to your end of the chain

piesies there\'s a lot smarter than you

moment they grozīsies
bow down before the wind
and children\'s voices congratulate ourselves

JĀŅU SONET

else, these lush seedlings
if not the solstice
the caraway cheese is eaten
and women sleeping in the bushes acts

maybe the color of the fat
and in me there is nothing valid
but maybe that seedlings of lush
and life is too generous

I do not know what can you do
but acts along the river banks lying
the river is good - I also

becomes warm from dīvajām speeches
the tenderness of soul, mud
rising bubble bul

a movable legs
Eric Adamsons

lively green and transparent
spring morning
on the streets
moved tram

run and jump if you want to manage

at the window
Rising sun lit
sitting beautiful girl
and kustināja
\"1. April \"Shoe ieautu
adorable legs

and the gray-haired globe course
fresh and green in the morning of April
moved on to the

even volcanoes said
poof - poof
and uttered a round
smoke rings

run and jump if you want to manage
do not believe
be late

streetcar Now
will drive along the graves
in bloom and green
lively spring morning

and all the dead hands of the Meiji
swing up
girls leg
immortal poof - poof
happy poof - poof

run and jump if you want to manage

streetcar Now
will travel along the zoo
all small rezusiņi
solemnly received PUD
Seal black curve Vila
above the oily water level
slīmesti and kangaroos
leap
girl stands must carry
kapeiciņu met the atgiešanos
Hear
the nodžinkstēja
Dead joyfully called
iodine midwife Tarbes

Girl still move the leg

lively and green spring
annual revolution
I cried at the street corners

move the river ice
girls Relations

ENISA

klanīdamies evening comes
without assistants at the date of

Day turned pale and slow
slow up slienas

keep the big desk
leave instructions

and the dark crown house
runs across rooftops

NIGHTS

Nights
always a lilac flowers
Nights
pungent smell of cold
Nights
smell of distributed hug
but the old bulb
Nights
and you get to the light bulb and try
connect the fragile manpower
Nights
someone turns on the light and
You do not seek out the bulb and pounded
Nights
do not close your eyes light neatdariet
those whom I love
I still
I try to connect manpower
Nights
All gone just bust cry
No nights
my horse tethered goats tenderness
Nights
against her forehead will nosisties
Nights
always a lilac flowers
Nights
sakrampēto finger between the
something in bloom
No nights
that bloom? can not see the death of tizlāk bloom
Nights

tiptoe igniting
clumsy words die

to get you to desert your mouth
symbol passes through groves

(Death summarize his life
and highlights šito site)

Gauguin Monologue

closer to yellow sky
closer to the red water
your Umurkumurs pole
is too soapy and slick

your bite is too soft
cooled greasy and slick
closer to death, but the sky
closer to the yellow water

paint platseju women
rot and smell like a flower
academic master
your art is a bitch

and the loss of trees returned by gallop Day
and rigorous eye stared at 200 W
I object look like a stone against the wall
and became director - as Jaunušans or Katz

former troupe folks I know (or love)
and the opera was always another
and soul of the Romans in the future as collateral
the crooked cross yesterday, beaten

that today will not be able to do today
and Christ only makes sense piekrustītam
gray hair on the clothes is proceeding
to which the Gambia moriem nekristītiem

and was a mirror which turned away from me
and the dust of the road that took me to charge
because I am an actor - as Liepins or sound
not fall broke a cavalcade of

ART

wind swept leaves me heart loudspeaker
one drinker to go with myself speaking
also on the bench
French (English?) written in ART
nervously kustēdamies
(Even outside - sitting tall)
I will address the task
from which the hair is white
either such as street
which is close to the moves and rustles
maybe not street no
but blue tear palte
either like my hand
the coat pocket freezing
maybe not rock no
An active but limited government
secret at all living in one second
known but not worth the utter
or it is not terrible artists free
realize: there is indeed written in the ART
expresses the great mystery
But not all in the mind of these have been
incomplete sentence or a color combination
accidentally turned out to be immortal

SAULLĒKTS

He looked naively
the sun rise

still above the meadows
lay morning calm

He looked naively
not knowing how to do

land of the wolf and the wolf
greenish light breath

start or finish
morning, we do not answer

can not find the secret path
White answers grove

morning continued growing
he became older and older

Life moved meadows
and white tops

dziest bulbs in all rooms
is either a morning or evening
and my ear so much is poured
I stayed in the red
like a balloon over Antarctica
or orange
the track cleaner
that a tramway slāj

maybe soon I will begin to glow
and become light bulb
as Chuck or Suite

maybe I really would become a poet
and skolaspuikas flee from me

Dame ringer
deaf and ugly lover
yeasts to take up writing youth
Orange to bring rail slāj

dying bulb moment trembling
if the party still morning

O Make sure the cloud
there Veidenbaum lonely lives
and vieglītēm aizķerdamās
the sun shines through it

vieglītēm aizķerdamies
atstaigā spring
and a second later
sarosās flowers and branches

but oh forgive propertied gardener
the tulips on the market brings
He was a poet, a little
shading cloud

EVENING ON LAKE

there really is home to more fish
aizlīgo bluish shadows
but do not think about them
but is not edible
Shadows
(With one still would like to say -
carp are beautiful eyes)

nosprāgs when the last fish
This lake will also be empty
water will be stored as body
pike-urgent caresses
emptiness is also in your
thicket in the eyes of narrator

evenings and through the death
skive off the coast of work
and fell flat pebbles
that aizlēkās palēkdamies
was in the flat pebbles