My demon, why are you so sad?
Have apples ceased to grow in her garden?
Or streams of worship turned to helpless brooks,
And blade-sharp thirst’s at fault for wistful tones,
You swathing in?
My demon, when are you to smile?
Have world stopped to emit desired objects?
Or nothing else left to the exploration, not even self,
And premises, adorned with souls quaint,
Have seared of joy?
My demon, why are you at mute?
Do questions useless make resistance grow?
I can’t quite seize the nature of your sorrows,
And silence makes me think perfidious person,
Hast be involved?
My demon, had you fell for cruel of life?
Have easy task of being spirit withered?
And worth of hell does not amuse your sight?
Or you just want be me, or him, or her, for a second?
I’ll rescue you…
gOoD NAtUrE oF mR. sIMplEton
© Copyright: Fern, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104082700177
Свидетельство о публикации №104082700177
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