The life in this city
is made of facades.
He opened the Portal
by parting with mask:
a black crow fell
in the snow mowed down
at once – by the chain
of the merciless words.
His dreams were immortal,
instead of a nest,
while clown-like jumping,
he sewed his lines,
and weaving the Cosmos,
he cooked funny songs,
and spun silly poems
as though at ease.
In sunny brand masks,
it’s the falsehood that rules.
A stranger for people,
still breathing at hard
from wounds – the unequal one
got the revenge –
his soul like a stone
rolled into the night.
Death burst into blizzards
and howled – too cold!
The cage is too narrow
for creatures with wings.
The snow’ll be washed
from the city away.
It’s sad that he will…
no longer meet Spring.
February 10, 2009
Man in a mask
© Copyright: Александра Крючкова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125103109267
Свидетельство о публикации №125103109267
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