redefining september

it is september now
september, for many years to come
every heart's adjusting
to this strict september drum

i see ten septembers in a row
with numbers on their days
display some new conclusions
which all of us have missed

so let's drink to when it's over
and let's drink to when we meet
i'll be standing on this corner
where there used to be a street.

nightingales

midnight birds, what are you doing out there. i can hear your conversations from my room. after everyone in this house is asleep, except me, you and your friends are still singing in the park. why?

do you discuss something out there? i believe you don't have essays to submit this week, do you? so what do you discuss, tell me please. in english if possible.

are you cold, or scared? are you a bit drunk tonight? or are you just having a late night picnic at the wellington square? is it a bit hungry that you feel? would you like to have some bread? or are you just being touched by loneliness? it must be dark out there, isn't it. i hope you are not lost.

i'm sure you're not afraid of darkness. i hear your's is a lovely song. it seems as if nature speaks through you in this midnight hour. even though to me it's a bit odd to hear birds singing at this time, i admit your cheerful music bring a sense of spring into my mind. so please carry on singing. tell your stories to the stars, or to the wind if it's a cloudy night... and i will sit silently right here, in my room at the basement of this old house, guessing what is the meaning of your sweet song. if you wouldn't mind.

---

"...i built my house beside the wood
so i could hear you singing,
and it was sweet and it was good
and love was all beginning..."

- nightingale, l.c.-

subscription day

one by one, the essays are done. and one by one, the new ones will come. from the pages of international trade and finance - a subject which tries to convince you that capitalism will prevail; to international law with its never ending cases and chapters to memorize - believe me they want you to remember numbers of those years and articles when you can even hardly memorise your own mobile number; to the mountain high of politics where the ghosts of great philosophers reside and continue their debate; and finally to diplomatic practice classes where lessons from the able ambassadors unite.

it seems to take enourmous amount of hours for me to compose those sentences into a meaningful paragraph. let alone a page. but the lesson is perhaps there. like any labour that you are committed to do. if you stick to a labour long enough, it will eventually yield. even though long enough is probably way beyond any reasonable estimation of what long enough might be.