Rain, maybe, in window,
Sky, maybe, in a moon,
Maybe month in Lune
Met with wine cold.
Here floating infront,
Like the shadow dense,
Empty, double faces,
Evil, at the dark wall.
Those things have been
A meltwater bitter
That in gray blizzard
Cooled down me.
In the dark night light
Fill twithout candlelight
Cup luring gloom,
Straining nerves.
Not nice, not her first.
Rooks arrive.
Gun reflect - killing light.
At night time and bright when it goes
Sheets torning to shadows.
Providence silent.
#andrey_of_rus
Original text on Russian:
http://www.stihi.ru/2011/04/30/5638
Seven Thousand Night
© Copyright: Андрей Российский, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116012507174
Свидетельство о публикации №116012507174
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