I’ve read my verses to a casual whore.
She listened bowed her head. There was no sign
Of understanding. Was I one more boar
To her? A stranger found her just to talk and whine?
In ardent inspiration they were read –
My verses – to a humble fallen girl.
She stood in silence, not a word was said.
The only poplar leaf did dance of whirl.
She raised her head and gave me look of grief.
I did shut up and suddenly surmised
About her wishing keenly to believe
In my sincerity as in a rare prize.
I ve read my verses
© Copyright: Игорь Захаров, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109040803457
Свидетельство о публикации №109040803457
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