The silently nigth is terrible,
There are pieses of time, wich are going so slow,
Prisoner is not sleeping,
His soul is full of pain,
Far, lovely passing minutes,
The memories covered it.
All the time the convoire walk"s outsite the window,
Not the simple men, another watching,
No, bloodness enemy, latvian, surly and stupid,
Cold angry breathing to prisoner.
For what? For what?
All this pain of moral sorrow,
Heavy every - hourly expactationes,
The merders, wich are dangered every moment in the silence,
The prisoner"s thought in praeing is carring high,
All, that around are heavy so darckless and scary,
Loved ones, the nearest are so terrible far,
The convoires are so closely.
Немая ночь жутка... князь Владимир Павлович Палей
© Copyright: Елена Георгиевна Козина, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126102607892
Свидетельство о публикации №126102607892
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