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Best Poems Written by Dan Enache

Below are the all-time best Dan Enache poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Do not get lost in the dream of a poet

Do not get lost in the dream of a poet,
Whose heart is an ocean deep with thoughts and feelings,
He will navigate through each of your moments, without purpose,
Enveloping in verses the color of your eyes, your smile, unknowingly losing you.
In every word of yours, he will seek a universe,
Spending sleepless nights deciphering the hidden messages in your gaze.
He will agonize over a lost kiss, an unknown goodbye,
And create fantastic worlds, filled with doubts and shadows, in his poet's realm.
Do not fall in love with a poet, with his burdened soul,
For he will submerge you in the waters of his ceaseless love,
And you will feel overwhelmed by his ever-present affection.
And when your kiss becomes a mere obligation,
And your touch just a mechanical gesture,
His heart will bleed, and suffer even more.
He will analyze every thought, every moment, in a labyrinth of words,
Wondering if they are all figments of his mind.
And when you choose to drift apart,
He will wake up in the middle of the night, rewinding time,
Searching for mistakes, questioning: "Where did I go wrong? What have I done?"
The truth is, I am a poet, with the soul of a deep dreamer,
So do not fall in love with me,
Unless you're ready to love me in every moment, forever.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

In the abyss of loneliness, man struggles

In the abyss of loneliness, man struggles,
With a soul burnt by darkness and pain,
He fills his heart with immortal memories,
Weaving fantastic illusions in a somber theater.
He gazes towards the Sun and the clouds,
In search of an escape to freedom,
Dreaming of heroes who, in stories and legends,
Weave humanity's destiny in a bold ode.
Women, with beautiful bodies and fiery souls,
Ignite his desire and passion,
While the Cosmos and the Earth rotate,
Each man in search of a divine escape.
Love wounds his heart, when the beloved is harder to find,
Sin tempts him in moments of weakness,
Paradise and Hell battle at the end of life,
Making him wonder where he will find happiness.
Life and death, in an eternal dance, twirl,
In an endless balance between hope and despair,
War and peace embrace in the world of man,
Dragging him into the whirlwind of an uncertain carousel.
Man, in his abyssal solitude, molds his fantasies,
To confront reality with dreams and faith,
In a universe where he falls and rises,
With a heartbeat pulsating to the rhythm of time and destiny.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

Your soul is a breeze over my silent sea

Your soul is a breeze over my silent sea,
Your star is the spark that dispels the darkness within me.
Night draws its secretive curtain over the undying yearning,
And your dream is the lighthouse that bathes me in waters of fantasies.
I wander through the world, often aimlessly and without direction,
But your shadow, sweet echo, is etched into my heart.
You remain in every thought, and in deep sleep, you shine,
Light, your smile, the guiding star in the cold night.
Years have passed, storms have come, shattering our dreams,
Your voice and your face, the canvas of time has blurred,
Hope and love started to fade beneath glaciers,
I dance with loneliness, a duet in the endless void,
But from the depths of darkness, a ray breaks through like a whisper,
A painting of beauty, you danced before me, a vision.
The heart flutters, sensing the fragrance of May days,
Torches of trust, love, tears like balm, they all overflow in cascades of feeling.
The heart is an unceasing spring of emotions,
In its rhythm, I feel the birth of love, it is you, longing realized.
Ecstasy, faith, and hope, the wind breathes them to me anew,
You are my breath, a crystal of happiness and my eternal love, that is what you are to me, my beloved.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

When you sang, dreams croaked, then you ceased to be a volcano

When you sang, dreams croaked, then you ceased to be a volcano,
It was simpler to become a rock, not letting yourself be unraveled by the waves of myopia.
After seasons died in your arms, resigned to your cold might,
You questioned if perhaps all flowers tear their petals in vain for you.
You were left emptied of greenness, a vast void where echoes can't return,
You've lost the appetite for light and horizons, a crownless tree in the purple twilight.
Oh, how you wished to remain the same old fir, clutching a world of rays to your chest,
But you let the day slip into night, you departed to become the leaf you await to fall.
Nymphs in chorus called you to shout again, for the wind to blow in your blue day,
But you stayed silent, and in your silence the tear of the sea extinguished in a fist of foam,
You feared the equinox that doesn't come, the persistent remembrance of a song once drawn,
And you feigned your existence into a white beginning of hibernation, like a silence before a revelation.
Do you believe that once you bloomed, the storm can't break the branch that holds you?
You stopped being the barbarian that made the echo in the mountain laugh at itself,
And in exchange for smiles, a sad pass settled on your face, casting long shadows,
An unanswered question that floats above you, a flight that no longer knows how to reach its destination.
Ah, you’ve lost her, that fearless bird that used to scent the filters of your soul!
You've ceased your word, halted the depth from caressing the root of the sky.
You've forgotten the whirlwind that lifted you above the world, and now you search for meaning,
You are a snail without a shell, feather without flight, a ripple without an ocean, a sky without a constellation.
Is waking harder? Is oblivion gentler than the sweet pretext of remembrance?
You wonder why the stars do not answer your indescribably late call,
The road back seems too long now, legends speak of new beginnings, barren horizons.
Slowly but surely, you lost it... in a pass of slippery fog over your world,
Now you are the slave to your own echoes, seeking a mirror in me so you can breathe once more.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

Through whispers that furrow the silence, the cursing horn sounds

Through whispers that furrow the silence, the cursing horn sounds,
Over plains of shadow the dusk of night descends all around.
Hyperion of night glows with embers beneath lids of silver light,
In silence watches over sparse poplars, caressed by the moon's delight.
Dreaming of the scent from deep, dark woods, on the lake's mysterious wave,
Begging for comfort from the stars that weep in the realm of the forgotten, their enclave.
Thirsting to trace hurried steps, to journey beneath the starry sphere,
While the rhythm of seasons softly ticks, like a clock in the night drawing near.
Linden flowers shatter over celestial metaphors that echo in night's thrall,
From the glittering dawn to the borders of dark eternities, overarching all.
Through the centuries, as legatees on Earth, his steps will remain unswayed,
Like a gold coin rimmed by fate's bright light, ever vibrant, always unstayed.
Lord of the stars, a young noble robed in romances of elation,
With night's locks cascading, the forest patrols in hushed revelation.
Like a sage of silence, tethered to solitude with ancient ties,
Treading paths that angels step, in the crickets' twilight symphony, the bird descends and flies.
With eyes that embody the infinite, thoughts nobly uplifted in cosmic sprawl,
He reclines on the forehead of time immortal, a monarch in high-walled hall.
You've poured magic through the gates of ether, unlocking the most treasured enigma, cast,
In the celestial chamber you unwittingly sign your name, on scattered parchment, on a constellation vast.
Apollo of oblivion, from your searing, touch-me-not zodiacal trace,
You spin the stars like a rosary, forever set as their vigilant grace.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

In my youth, I was a prisoner of pain

In my youth, I was a prisoner of pain,
A soul lost in the fog of melancholy, without comfort.
Gloomy horizons had been my home under a cold and white moon,
I sailed alone, among rocks of despair and waves of silence.
From where have you appeared, oh distant dream, my diaphanous specter,
Coming from a land where evenings bloom like a pure thought?
What unfulfilled yearning brought you to foreign shores,
Like a falling star through the mist of endless nights?
You left behind shores where trade winds
Play through the fronds of palm trees under the scorching sun.
Were the celestial waters, the tears of the sea, too weak,
Broken in powerlessness, they did not stop the migratory longing?
Did you know, I wonder, that here, in the wastelands of my soul do not grow
Silk flowers, love songs, nor hidden gardens?
Here, love has traded its echo for a mere gram of oblivion,
As the beautiful canvas of passing dreams slowly unravels...
But you, with fingers of snow and moons carved in relief,
With eyes that reflected the gentle abyss of a frozen ocean at peace,
You appeared, fairy, unfolding breaths of azure around,
Banishing the flood of phantoms, planting a silent paradise in me.
Come, take my hand, be my guide to the celestial realm,
Where palm trees watch over the endless seas of gold and sand.
In their open arms, let my cage rest,
To rebirth paradise from the ashes of our forever unfulfilled dreams.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

While you try to become the best version of yourself

While you try to become the best version of yourself,
Insecurity infiltrates, an unbeaten foe that embraces confidence,
And you list potential falls before even stepping onto the open road.
Every deed is stitched with the thread of this somber foreboding.
Yet, if you know how each scar quietly whispers to you its own tale,
A story of how much it bled, how much pain there was when it was still a fresh wound.
And which bold paths you have taken toward healing, what battles you had to fight.
It's not easy to step out of the frame of your comfort, from your arches of safety.
But when the stars align, they conspire as if yearning to show you a universe
Where you are meant to shine – accept everything with grace, let chance follow its course.
For if you don't, the print of regrets will be one that will never fade.
To receive the stars and the threads of fate, even when they are entwined,
Even when fears seem swifter than your choices.
Gather all your scars, each a mark placed on the map of your own galaxy.
Leave from yourself a beacon, a lighthouse deep in the unknown to which you inevitably head.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

Forgive me, my love, for I wandered like a lost traveler

Forgive me, my love, for I wandered like a lost traveler,
On the enchanted caravel of our lives,
I traveled through blooming fields,
But slipped away like a subtle and enticing melody.
In the garden of your heart, I found shelter and rest,
A haven of tranquility, like stories woven in moonlight,
But I couldn't vigilantly watch over the early buds,
I left, letting them discover their own heights.
Forgive me, my love, for the long and deep nights,
When our dreams intertwined like threads of gold,
On the sky of your life, I unfurled like a celestial traveler,
But disappeared into the timeless mist of silence.
In your eyes, I deciphered unspoken secrets and hidden mysteries,
On your lips, I tasted the essence of eternal love,
But as a pilgrim of infinity, I didn't know how to stay,
To share the heavy and unwavering burden of our existence.
Forgive me, my love, for leaving the labyrinth of your soul,
Leaving your heart to weep in bitter isolation,
But even as a traveler through the twists and turns of your life,
I loved passionately, like a sunrise ablaze in fiery flames.
Now, as a memory, you will carry within you the echo of my pilgrim,
A traveler who sowed seeds of love on the untrodden path,
And perhaps, in another spring, on another day of grace,
You will forgive the traveler who passed through your magical and mysterious world.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

Poetry is a drug, mixed in the alchemy of the night

Poetry is a drug, mixed in the alchemy of the night,
An elixir of never-ending dreams, the bitter drink of wandering souls,
Poured into the empty goblets of thirsty minds,
And it flows, softly, through the veins carrying the sap of unspoken desires,
A sweet poison that opens gates to hidden worlds.
With every swallowed word, I lose myself in the endless labyrinth,
Where words are torches burning in the hand of time,
Illuminating dark paths where my steps hesitate,
And discovering in the depths, forgotten treasures of love and yearning,
The remnants of battles between dream and reality, between sky and cloud.
In smokey dreams, I let myself be carried by the turbulent rhymes,
That float on murky waters, ink butterflies in their evening flight,
They carry me toward horizons where stars write poems on the celestial vault,
And the moon, the great poetess, pours her silver over seas of unclear thoughts,
Embracing lost souls in eternal poetry, where everything begins and ends.
But, oh, how bitter is the withdrawal when the ink dries up,
And the letters melt into the night, leaving behind only the shadows of silence,
In those moments, my soul breaks, searching for a way back
To that endless ocean of words, where poetry is the drug that keeps me alive,
And in each verse, I find salvation, a lighthouse in the night, guiding me to dawn's light.
Thus, I let myself be caught again in her enchantment, this sacred dependency,
Poetry - my panacea and my curse, the magic that weaves me into a web of dreams,
Where every word is a falling star, and every verse, a new world,
A refuge from reality, where I can fly, fall, be reborn,
In an infinite journey, where poetry is the drug that fuels my soul.

Details | Dan Enache Poem

In the grey shadow of voiceless days

In the grey shadow of voiceless days,  
I, a dreamer laborer, a faceless specter,  
Under the silent vault that never opens its eyes,  
I weave my destiny in threads of black linen, hidden in the night.  
With arms that bear the weight of worlds, I build walls,  
I lose myself in labyrinths of silent echoes,  
Stretching the distances between me and the fleeing dream,  
Life, an unwritten poem, always beyond reach.  
I need neither splendor nor shining thrones,  
Only cold shadows accompany me on my journey through stone days,  
Brothered with poverty, loneliness is my sole companion,  
I seek not the sweetness of love, but the cold kiss of poetry.  
What is my life? An enigma where the echo of questions is lost,  
An endless string of days, a thirst unquenched,  
A solitude that crosses aeons, an endless refrain,  
In a world that doesn't even know my name.  
I live like a monk among the pages of the world,  
Writing my expectations in verses that flow  
Like tears on the unjust face of time,  
And my dreams, pale children, are the phantoms of hope.  
My life, an altar where the flame never extinguishes,  
My purpose, a lantern in the never-ending storm,  
An oasis of peace in the tumult of the world, where steps do not echo,  
And maybe, one day, a sign of salvation will appear.  
A mystic order of pure souls,  
That will light up the darkness with their poetry,  
A choir of hearts sustaining the harmony of the cosmos,  
In this stone temple, I live, I work, in silence.  
Thus am I, the ascetic worker in his sanctuary,  
Without glory, without echo, waiting for a day that may never come,  
Yet my heart beats in the rhythm of an unwritten poem,  
And from each beat, poetry is born, echoing in other hearts.