Wine is the struggle for the body,
Posters are the struggle for the souls.
Somebody is swearing to be brave ,
But somebody has already broken his oath.
He from the house,she falls on the pillow,
Tiring days when one is fed up with everything.
He suddenly left his familiar feeding trough
Fiding out that it"s a cold body.
It"s too late to look alternatives
Of new losses in order to prolong agony,
It"s not like morning tea on the verandah,
It is the road which fell under the feet,
It"s a fag-end in the trembling hand,
Preliminary elderness in twenty-four,
A torn newspaper on the wet sand,
Two shadows living in the same flat.
Long nights,short days,
The beat of the clock instead of heart beat...
What are we here and what are they here?
A widow and a widower share the bed.
A family of the dead 5 years after wedding
© Copyright: Игорь Нагорный, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104062900528
Свидетельство о публикации №104062900528
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