I woke up early again.
I'm in trouble again.
This wound ached again,
From which there is no time for sleep.
Stirred up my soul again,
That familiar face,
In which I am always cowardly,
That she put a ring on me.
Darkness again. I lie silently,
Staring blankly at the ceiling.
As if it were someone's curse,
From which he fell ill.
And again around those shadows,
From which there is no sleep...
Again today the day is lost,
Despite the fact that it's spring again!
Spring?
© Copyright: Святослав Соловьев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126051602676
Свидетельство о публикации №126051602676
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