The line between fiction and reality is so thin, translucent.
We are not able decide unambiguously where the dream,
where reality, while listening only to the mind,
to it's maxims and ideas.
Riding along the rim of Samsara,
we were in the infantry yesterday and in the hussars the day before yesterday,
and even earlier sat on the grass near the inn,
we blew the bagpipes and sang on the flute
medieval longing for the end of life,
which had not yet begun.
So where is our shelter, where is our true homeland?
Almighty Father, why do you look with dumb reproach
on our vanity of vanities?
Why all this?
Will there ever be an answer?
12.08 03.07. 2021
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© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2021
Vanity
© Copyright: Валео Лученко, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121070303294
Свидетельство о публикации №121070303294
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