Forgive and farewell...
It’s all in vain
to cry or to complain, –
the houses, the villages,
the Constellations
of worlds and ages
are still empty, –
not mine,
the Astral Pages
whisper: Time
is our hangman.
To step… up? down? through
the doors? the window? –
no matter,
the words to chatter
are so empty,
as the main
Pleiades of sparking poems
had no meaning,
went bypass,
the wedding ceremonies
don’t threaten us! –
the rest is all the same:
The heat? the frost?
Parnassus or the plains? –
What does it change?
the dreams
are zero empty,
no episodes
to raise, to fall.
So use the lamps and glosses
of other people’s roads
to book my losses,
that save us all.
May 6, 2008
An amulet
© Copyright: Александра Крючкова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125101903400
Свидетельство о публикации №125101903400
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