There was time, I was writing at any pretext–
When I slipped, when I fell, gave someone in a face …
But now day time flows differently way that is why
I still wait for last loss and I cry, and I cry.
The gray hair’s at my temples and beard and about
And my loneliness’ fear doesn’t allow to be proud.
Though I would not throw wives, not throw children of mine
But I drink veronal and I cry, and I cry…
There was time, I was writing at any pretext Remix
© Copyright: Вир Вариус, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104080601146
Свидетельство о публикации №104080601146
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