Died down, danced the New year…
I will go out into the streets of tired desolation,
at yesterday's still bright gate
I will feel its absoluteness.
They're lying in sticky mud,
In unfrozen gaping puddles
Trees that were brought to the holiday
And left there indifferent.
Couldn't sell out completely?
So give Granny a pine tree!
Was it easier to throw it in the mud?
Why are you doing this?!
And yesterday even a thin branch
You didn't give it to the old lady for nothing.
The heart so can petrify,
That you can't save your soul!
Отгремел, отплясал Новый год
© Copyright: Андрей Дмитриевич Кондратьев, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206179
Свидетельство о публикации №120010206179
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