It was a piercing chord of else’s pain,
The stone trash of reproaching, rocking down,
I hadn’t any place. I left my home.
And, panting runner, suddenly I found
The notes in my damnation and began
To hide the beauty’s marks into my-self.
The beauty lived in me, it lived around,
The glimmer mash of evil slow run past,
I was a dragon-fly, all-powerful.
And on a lake so tender pink I saw
A house, the whirling lace of speaking park.
Its lived out of laws, its waited me.
Don’t ask my crazy friends, my crazy Love,
What is my song. You know I never lie,
Need nothing. All is simple: you’ll take your choice.
When I will saturate the iron gods
With flower poison never made by men,
The questions will be died.
My flowers sprout.
The ballad of flight or The song about us
© Copyright: Катиона Герольдовна Расхрюкинска, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104022900714
Свидетельство о публикации №104022900714
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