The night touches your eyelids with gentle hands, and you
***
The night touches your eyelids with gentle hands, and you
recover your sight with the silence of a forgotten memory, living
in the shadow of uncreated eternity. Short-sighted days
look into the pupils, tired from delight, and spin
a documentary film of frightened events
in the empty hall of imagination.
Recent Posts
Postscript of Artificial Intelligence to a New Poem by Oleksandr Korotko
When we first asked ChatGPT to read and interpret a poem by Oleksandr Korotko, the…
“Time became a lump in the throat…”
*** Time became a lump in the throat, a tower, a skyscraper that grows and…
When Technology Reads Poetry: ChatGPT Analyzes a New Poem by Oleksandr Korotko
Modern tools open new horizons for dialogue with poetry. We decided to run an experiment…
“The days of remembrance have passed…”
*** The days of remembrance have passed, May rains — tears of those on Earth,…
Notes from Wartime
The bilingual poetry collection «Notatki z czasu wojny / Notes from Wartime», created in a creative…
Bilingual Poetry Collection “Notes from Wartime” Published in Poland – A Poetic Dialogue on the Experience of War
A bilingual poetry collection titled "Notatki z czasu wojny / Notes from Wartime", co-authored by…