Again the autumn storms have torn
The shore-side leaves away;
We lost our minds, by passion borne —
What pity we did not perceive
That night endures but till the morn,
And on the morrow you must leave.
The morning rain pours from the sky,
The forecast desolate and grey;
You said to me: “I must away,”
And I — again, as always, I —
Am powerless to make you stay...
And so you part. It is goodbye.
A moth drawn blindly to the flame —
An omen, sorrowful and true.
One breath of night — and then the pain...
So blinded by the joy I knew,
I gave no heed to warning's cue,
But now the dawn, the threshold plain.
The second hand’s uneasy tone,
The dawn, inexorable, cold;
All, all is staked, the die is thrown.
I leave, unpardoned and alone,
But you... my heart will always hold.
I leave. Unpardoned and alone.
Again the autumn storms have torn
© Copyright: Виталий Шматалюк, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126052905181
Свидетельство о публикации №126052905181
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