The world stands
On buying the lands,
On pouring the sands
From hands to hands.
But the dust slips away,
In this insane relay.
It runs its way
As it wants.
To count the time,
While the crazies vaunts
In disorderly chime.
They're counting their pounds
And golden mounds,
But time runs and laughs,
'Cause brilliant dumbs,
In golden slums,
Build their land
On pillars of sand.
Fools and gold
© Copyright: Эмиль Бенедикт Величка, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125050807541
Свидетельство о публикации №125050807541
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