I will leave just nothing behind.

Where am I going like a Gypsy cart?

I need a way, remote and wide.

”Hey, who is there?” I call out with my silent tongue.

No sailor hears, no pilot catches my sight.

The sweet dreams no longer bother my heart.

The desire for roads still sings in my mind.

I have nothing to leave behind!

I packed myself in a travelling bag without my present and past.

”Hey, who is there?” There is only one bag for someone who may find.

There is only a Gypsy word on my lips, ”Miles!”
”Hey, who is there in my impatient time?”



You are far away.

O, hear me in my melancholic melody!

You are far away.

I see you every day.

I see you even through the mist’s blindness.

No telescope is even better than my crazy fantasy.

I am used to drinking nectar from the hands of dreams.

You are far away.

I see you through all the world’s distances.

I am at a corner of the street where you have never been.

Do you see my tobacco smoke in the horizon’s wide sleeves?

I see you even through the moon’s pale beams.

I am used to planting daisies in the fields of dreams.


Uncertainty! You are a bubbled cloud, gloomy and grey.

You keep me as a prisoner in your airless jail.

When you burst out it will probably rain.

If it rains my eyes will not be a waste land.

Uncertainty! You took even my tears with your transparent hand.

The past went away.

The present still waits.

The uncertainty’s future is a desert with silent sands.

O uncertainty, don’t struggle to stay!

There will be another day.

There will be another sail.

No poem is ever in a pen.

It travels through the paper with something to say.

Uncertainty! What is nothingness, life or death?



 The night, the immense onyx rested under the moon’s eyes.

We embraced the gigantic moon as if it weren’t far.

Far! Isn’t it a cage for a heart?

Far!What a cave for a soul in which even the moon dies!

That night the moon like a bowl of honey seemed near to us.

The sun was near like its ray on an emerald bud.

Time runs and puts something on its horse cart.

Would time give us back our onyx night?

You rushed home as you missed your silver sea’s sunrise

The escaping moment drank our grape wine.

Now the moon is too far.

The sun is far and not warm enough.

Now even the airport bulbs are so far.






About Anahit Arustamyan

Anahit Arustamyan is an Armenian poet. She writes romantic and philosophical poems rich in metaphors and allegorical expressions. Her creative works are full of emotions and deep thoughts. Her poems have appeared in different poetry magazines and anthologies both online and in print. She is the author of the poetry books: The Queen Of Metaphors, My Intoxicated Ink, The Phantom’s Dolphin, Words In Flight, and The Canvas Of My Soul: The Hues Of My Palette https://www.amazon.com/Canvas-My-Soul-Hues-Palette/dp/1727225333/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1537796672&sr=1-1&keywords=the+canvas+of+my+s

which are available on Amazon.

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