The noble guests are passing through the door
They stroll inside the hall and occupy their seats.
All black and white, just slightly tight
Smooth movements, silver clang, dim light.
Small courteous talk, faint smiles and what a bore
To peep into the hall from outside the window,
When nothing’s left to do, when you’re not expected
Inside the visitors are properly directed.
The whole party jumped on their feet and clapped
Addressing someone I was looking for.
A friend of mine, who gave a sign
To break a crystal glass, to mix the blood with wine.
I skipped it, however, I just went away.
The wind was harsh and cold, the mountain high.
No sense to stay, so close yet so far away
My life has ended and I let her die.
1994
The Last Supper
© Copyright: Алексей Улько, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108071901143
Свидетельство о публикации №108071901143
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