FOR MY DEAR BROTHER.
Invisible internal embodies a tune on white-black keys
And I am screaming but the sound won’t be reached
By cars that going out towards the endless space.
My city’s slumbering and what’s the matter
That the amorphous scream doesn’t have face
Like a knife that furrowed vainly water,
The clay that doesn’t get to know the hands of master.
I’m screaming from my pain, from anguish.
It’s not a melody, it’s just a loudly cluster.
The scream will go away alone with only wish
To be the bloody crucifixion without face and voice.
The people’s crowds will pour force in the morning
And I will go to join the city’s noise.
7.20-21.02.
Scream
© Copyright: Наталия Ройбух, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104090601291
Свидетельство о публикации №104090601291
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