I tend to think it's real,
I tend to think today.
My miserable seasons
Ain't really on your way.
The day of truly coming
Persuadable old gestures,
The midst of dullest laughing,
Fraternities, suggestions.
Mine. Greatest recognition
For highest inner stay,
Being local one you're little
Belonging to the way.
For sweet our oldest summers,
My dearest poor guest,
We put away the trouble,
We hold and we wonder -
The glance of ours no coming
Nor east, nor west.
Mantra 36
© Copyright: Art Verten, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111072604493
Свидетельство о публикации №111072604493
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