Teach me running. At once to the sky, pass the ground.
Due to anscestors' testaments, rules that were made by the wise:
If you don't manage to curb this tall tale around,
So, my friend, it's a sign that reality'll make you surprise.
It's so complex and heavy to repulse advice of the pityings,
Even if they are sure: without you won't stay alive.
Truth's horrified by her mirror, but let's make greetings
To the Lie. She's a bit afraid of a sharpened knife.
Walking silhouettes in semi-opened eyes of the mansion
And eternal silence in plexus of linden trees.
It's a dream where parents and sister's wed dress are mentioned.
As well as the dear creak of that ancient swing.
I ain't going too far, just a couple hundred metres
But upwards, where nobody's scared to sleep.
If you ever, my sunshine, catch my voice in the bustle,
Please, try not to recognise it the way you keep.
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© Copyright: Валерия Евсеева, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125022401378
Свидетельство о публикации №125022401378
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