When the Bolshoi dances my ballet,
and I go through Pas de Calais;
when borders lose their ancient spite,
and Tallinn asks me back one night;
when AI searches every file
and finds no guilt beneath my smile;
when armies need no gun or sword,
and wars are fought just on chessboard;
when Tolstoy’s sentence comes undone,
and happy homes resemble none;
when grief mislays its old refrain—
could I be happy again then?
***
© Copyright: Королева-Пенская, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126100805859
Свидетельство о публикации №126100805859
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