Before the Sun

— Ekaterina Khakimullina

I wake up before the sun
silent, I wander out into the cold;
the moon’s glimmer, the streetlight’s gold,
leather jacket, breath like smoke.

Where the twilight comes to cease,
defeated gently by the morning breeze,
another world is born;
memories running from the creeping dawn,
I chase after them in an attempt
to capture my fears, my worst regrets,
but every time the sun begins to rise
my longings fade, scatter, hide,
among the lonely stars, the planets pride
themselves for spinning the cycle of my life.

In the sunlight, I am left to cry
through another restless night
and in the morning, to find the other world,
solemnly, I‘ll venture out into the cold.