At midnight, the sorrows curl
like an ominous vine.
My Ghost groans loudly, trapped
by the castle, disgrace!
An empty damned frame
in the niche of the portraits
is left.
The scent of the cherry trees
threatens with thunder again.
I’m facing the walls,
being flooded by Sadness
the Moon.
It seems,
that the source of the answer
is somewhere behind:
How long will the freedom
that looks like imprisonment
last?
Still neither the Kingdom of Death
nor the Testament Sun!
However, the walls
hide the secret,
are constantly deaf.
I’ll howl, the echo
will dance in the castle
my cry:
“Please, Artist,
just finish my portrait,
that missing the frame,
And hammer the nails on the wall,
get it finally hung!”
May 4, 2010
Frame without portrait
© Copyright: Александра Крючкова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125101905599
Свидетельство о публикации №125101905599
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