The day is coming to an end
But e'en the night is not my friend
Its gloom no longer can detain
My tearful bitterness and pain
We all within the downled spire
Roll from the cradle to the pyre
The listless gods' forgotten toys
Because of what can we rejoice?
This world has nothing more to get
No good nor peace it can beget
My allegoric rhymes and tropes
Won't resurrect the buried hopes
Tomorrow maybe, I'll awake
In sadness and the glum opaque
The last priest of the vanished cult
I am unable to exult
I'll count the cash, I'll buy a drink
And take a step beyond the brink
To where the snow-veil - dense and stiff
Enshrouds the tomb of my belief...
Five Quatrains At The Eve 15. 03. 08
© Copyright: Алексей Сарычев Лирика, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114100904167
Свидетельство о публикации №114100904167
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