Hands off...
One road runs down from mountains
The second one runs up from the sea
The third goes direct to Odessa.
In the dust of the cross-roads three.
And they came up in this story
Up to the croass-roads three
They were shod with iron and glory
They were crowned with a misery,
With oil were they clad and with foulness
Their solders were strong but display
The gleam of carrion rotting
They clung on about their way.
A wind blow down from the mountauns,
And a wind blow up from the sea.
But no wind blow out of Odessa.
To those men with a misery.
In the dust took they their counsel
In the dust of the cross-roads three.
I think they'll decide something
But won’t go to Odessa, I see...
Felix-the-Cat,
Frankfurt, den 27. December, 2014.
Руки прочь от Oдессы!!!
© Copyright: Феликс Богопольский, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114122704378
Свидетельство о публикации №114122704378
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