Some implacable sign or a treasure
And what then?No way
May be the wild pleasure
All the time,all the day
First beams of the sun
Shine towards to the hill
Them the last lost bum
Will train his will
Unreachable place,a lonely island
Forgotten with somebody's pretended dream
Backwards in a long-distant silence
Without any visible gleam
It hid outline in the fog
Outside ordinary vanity
Running away,afraid of smog,
Feeling the lack of bravity
It's far away from sorrow and grief
It's calm and reliable halt
Looking like a wonderfool reef
Or may be a fairy grot
The flattery and the irony of fact
That the time keep concealing for ages
The prejudice don't approve the track
And tries to sit in cages
Existing of the being in the time
It's nonsence and trifle at bottom
the essence of the implacable sign
In fact this is the real lotto
A wharf
© Copyright: Хиллари Андреани, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108012703736
Свидетельство о публикации №108012703736
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