Рецензия на «Лина Костенко Мне кажется, что с нами всё не так» (Владимир Туленко)
It seems, that we are different to ones, Being in past - the people, cities, pebbles. And here's a whisper: every sacred chance, Which you believed - died in the ages. As water, seeping though the finger's rame, When you try it to scoop up - all in vain. But there on palm the visions flame, As dreams, imprisoned in a dwell. And the eternity - a curtain heavy, Which hardly could be stand through... Which could smash you in your endeavour. And why you dare? Losing hope, true, In sacred, saint and holy chance. Say me - and I believe at once, That something's wrong that day with us. Людмила 31 12.12.2016 19:36 • Заявить о нарушении
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