Sometimes it seems to him - he’s not flying
between the Heaven, the Earth, the Underworld,
gathering the souls lost the way.
What a wonderful moment to lay upon a cloud, doing nothing!
The heart, like a metronome had showered by the seconds
the White’n’Black wheel of Eternity.
It’s boring listen to the wounded bird shout,
Which has got stuck between spokes of that wheel.
Joker, having removed a cap, suddenly became the preacher.
The hornless deer have lost the taste of reindeer moss.
And the brain is blowing on by the bell of mosquito squeak about 1000 decibels.
By the way, whence in heavens mosquitoes?
Revelation of heat: nor a brain, neither fried eggs.
And not right in the head.
It’s a hundred to one you could not have drifted in the pool,
filled with a cold milk of a bat.
‘ Cause there is no swimming pool among the heated desert’s sands…
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Читает – David Brill (Англия) - художник, актёр, писатель, путешественник, известный общественный деятель по борьбе с пиратством в Интернете.