I wonder, how possibly this could be
that the Autumn days became a Spring to me,
and the Spring time will succeed eventually
and rapidly in an Autumn’s lonely and descending days...
It’s sad to realize, that there’ll be a moment soon,
inevitable, as a Nature’s law,
when last, discoloured, withered, trembling leaf of hope
will fall on earth in quiet apathy of it’s eternal sleep...
So, that’ll be in the Spring! But now, in the present time,
as a convicted to the scaffold counts every remaining day a year,
with tears of joy I live, with happiness of sadness, with an ecstatic pain...
The dusk, the death, the nonexistence - do they really matter,
since all the treasures of your days, my Life, my Love,
have been possessed by my eternal soul, my beating heart’s refrain!..
December 19,‘02
My Life. A sonnet
© Copyright: Кирилл Большаков, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115101400863
Свидетельство о публикации №115101400863
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