They were all about you, all of them.
You were reading the sunrise, constantly catching it.
The Sun's head would rise slowly
and its rays would melt into my words.
Tulle was dashed by a draught, a shadow
was dancing on a hip,
sparrows would shout something in the yard.
I wanted the directions, the places and no one to be,
only for light to flow over our sweaty stomachks.
This morning lasted about a year,
and there were as many words
as there are angles in the soul.
And these words would die in a fight with themselves.
They were all about you.
Only about you.
Они все были о тебе - Катя Волошина - Eng
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120082005035
Свидетельство о публикации №120082005035
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