The inexplicable yearn comes to me every evening.
I'm ready to mutilate my soul for hairsplitting things,
I'm willing to torment it with doubts, making it spinning…
Exhausting myself I am spending a lot of paper and ink,
I’m writing ludicrous poems with grief about melancholy
And in the morning again I’m looking forward to see
Those inimitable moments that have passed long time ago.
And no chance to return them, nobody to recommit.
The inexplicable yearn
© Copyright: Асмолова Екатерина Александровна, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109072600555
Свидетельство о публикации №109072600555
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