A mask is more than just an object that hides the face. It's a symbol that has accompanied humanity throughout history, changing its forms and meanings. It can be a tool of deception, protection from the world, a means of self-expression, or a reflection of internal conflicts. In these poems, I attempted to peer beneath the surface of familiar images, exploring the multifaceted nature of the masks we wear and those that life imposes upon us.
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Wax face
In the silence of the rooms, in the dimness of the walls, a face of wax stares into space. It holds an unspoken captivity, and a secret forever visible there. A soulless gaze, frozen sadness, a smile like a carved scar. There is no life, no love, no distance in it, only a reflection of the past, cold, there.
Shadow theater
On life's stage, in a dark corner, We are puppets whose movements are not our own. And every gesture, every role – in delirium, Captive to ghosts that whisper from within. Behind a screen of fears, behind a veil of hopes, We play out dramas that are long since old. Distorted features, and the voice is quiet and tender, In a shadow theater where only deception and words rule. And behind the scenes – only emptiness and darkness, And anticipation of the next act. And the mask that has settled on the heart Conceals a truth that is so cruel and brief.
Fragile glass
Like fragile glass, the soul's façade trembles, fearing an accidental touch. Behind it lies the heart's guarding turmoil, pain, fear, and secret longing. We build walls, don masks, to hide vulnerability, weakness, and shame. But deep down, we still suffer, searching for the sincerity so long forgotten. And the cracks in the mask become ever more apparent, testifying to an inner struggle. I want to scream, I want to be bolder, but fear paralyzes me, whispering of fate. And yet, a ray of hope breaks through the glass, fragile, timid, yet alive. And perhaps one day it will become powerful, and dispel the fragile mask with new strength.
Faceless Guest
On a moonless night, in the empty silence, a guest arrives, faceless and invisible. He wears a mask like a steel shield, and his gaze is cold, elusive. He whispers fairy tales, false words, and promises happiness and peace. But in your heart you know it's just a game, and the faceless guest is a fatal demon.
Dust on the eyelids
Dust covers our eyelids, and our gaze is fixed on nothing, Hiding pain behind a mask of indifference. And it seems that life is just a series of meaningless events, like a role. We search for a way out, searching for a new light, But the mask clings tightly to our faces. And it seems there is no escape, And we are forever trapped in this dark captivity. But even in the dust we can discern a spark of hope that still burns. And perhaps one day we will be able to tear from our faces what has so destroyed us.
On a carnival night, beneath a wondrous mask, we forget our fate. And we dance a waltz, wild and difficult, in a whirlwind of passions, in a fiery game. Laughter and joy, the glitter of lights and wine, conceal the secrets that live in our hearts. And the mask allows us to be not alone, in a world of illusions, where dreams bloom. But with the first rays of the sun rises, and the realization that it was all for nothing. And the mask falls, and the heart sings, that life is not only carnival and frost. And in the mirror we see a face that was long forgotten in the bustle and masquerade. And we understand that it is true, and in it lies all beauty, and all joy.
Porcelain doll
A porcelain doll, with a silent smile, stands on a shelf, in dust and oblivion. She holds within herself sorrow and peace, and the secret of centuries, and the fragile decay. Her eyes are like two shards of glass, reflecting a world, distorted and strange. And a mask of silence has settled on her face, concealing feelings so inexpressible and fervent.
Broken Mask
There are shards on the floor, a broken mask, shattered into pieces, unable to bear the weight. And in every fragment – pain and longing, and a reflection of lies, and a bitter taste. We built an image, perfect and pure, but life made its own adjustments. And the mask cracked and became untrue, and revealed the truth that we had hidden for so long. And now, without protection and embellishment, we stand before the world, vulnerable and naked. And in this exposure – a new chance, to find ourselves and become free from pain. And maybe we will pick up the fragments, and create from them something new and bright. And we will never put on a mask again, and will live as we are, openly and welcomingly.
Mirror Maze
In a mirrored labyrinth of reflections, we search for a way out, losing ourselves. And the masks multiply, like a terrifying vision, and it's hard to understand who you are in this destiny. Every turn is a new role, a new identity, a new deception. And it seems there is no goal, and we are doomed to wander in this fog. But if you stop and look, deep into the reflections, into your soul, then you can see your true face, and find your path, and find silence and solitude. And then the mirrors will stop beckoning, and the labyrinth will dissolve like a dream. And you can breathe and live freely, and become yourself, and be yourself in unison.
The Face of Fate
The mask of fate is imposed upon us from birth, like a seal on the brow. And the role is prescribed, and the path is laid out, and it is difficult to understand what is true within ourselves. We play by the rules given to us, and wear masks that correspond to the roles. And we forget our dreams and prayers, and lose ourselves in this eternal struggle with will. But deep within the soul still lives, the desire for freedom, for truth, for light. And perhaps one day we will be able to tear the mask from our faces and find strength and victory.
Shadow on the wall
A shadow on the wall, distorted and pale, repeats movements as if in delirium. It is only a reflection, an incomplete copy, and a mask concealing truth and destiny. We fear our own shadows, afraid to admit to ourselves our weakness and sin. And so we put on masks to hide all the shadows, and live in illusions, in a fictional world, far away. But the shadow will always be near us, reminding us of our vulnerability and darkness. And we must learn to accept it with honor, and see it not as an enemy, but as a part of ourselves, in silence.
Masquerade
In the empty hall, under the moonbeam, the masquerade continues in silence. Everyone hides behind a face, in this game where there is no truth of the soul. Laughter and whispers, dancing and wine, conceal the sadness and melancholy in hearts. And the masks change, like a movie, in this mad whirlwind, in empty words.
Frozen grimace
A frozen grimace on the face testifies to pain and fear. And the mask, like a cage, tightly held, does not allow one to breathe deeply. We become accustomed to it, like our own skin, and forget that there is a soul beneath it. And we live in illusions, in a mirage, and lose ourselves, finding no peace anywhere. But one day, the grimace will crack, and the mask will fall, freeing us. And we will see the world as it is, and find ourselves, and forget this hour.
Empty shell
An empty shell, without soul or warmth, Just a mask hiding emptiness. And life passes by like water, Leaving no trace, giving no beauty. We fill it with other people's words, Other people's dreams, Other people's deeds. And we forget about our desires, And lose ourselves in this world of sorrow. But even in emptiness you can find A spark of hope that still burns. And fill the shell with your dream, And find yourself, and begin a new life.
Hidden Portrait
Beneath a layer of masks, beneath a veil of deception, lies a portrait of the soul, dim and pale. And only in silence, on a moonless night, does it reveal itself, like a dream, like delirium. We are afraid to show it to the world, afraid of being rejected and ridiculed. And so we put on masks to hide our lyre, and live in illusions, in a world of deception. But the true portrait will always live, deep within the soul, in the heart, in the memory. And one day, we will be able to discover it, and find ourselves, and find our harmony.