My swallow thought fly out mind
To sullen south lands to taste the wine
Of great and purple foolish decline?
Where will die a piece of mine/
Where freedoms wings`ll embrace my nature
And I`ll return to Gods creature?
And shall be a lump of ash and clay
Fly this my soul to dim decline.
My angels, Please, come down from blood sky
And answer just one question: Why?
So many people come up death,
From their hands, which always want to strangle
Please take your answer weary angels!!!
And take your wisdom to my eyers
Give me sky love, and understanding fear
To get off life of long thick worm,
To rouse in asleep sences storm,
In order to be man, but not a plant,
Or little insect with instinctive wishes,
To live in gormony with Univers and Land,
But not to be a food for their dishes!!!
Always return to lump of ash and clay...
insect
© Copyright: Булгаков Я-Ра-Слав, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106040401648
Свидетельство о публикации №106040401648
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