A poet - a mortician of verses,
Born in agony, brought to the light -
Fruit of his eternal curses:
Love for a word that takes flight.
Eternal ache of creating,
The weight of dead pages in hollows.
Dead words, forever waiting
For the tears of inconsolable widows.
He found them an eternal shelter,
Beyond any border or law.
Where are you, barbaric felter,
Plunderer of verse's tombs?
Poet- mortician
© Copyright: Евгений Тушин, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126031908506
Свидетельство о публикации №126031908506
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