It's wind around,
It's wasted ground,
I lost my bounds
To clear my soul.
No one - no hound,
No voice, no sound -
Will stop my rounds:
I roll and roll.
Deflected faces
And hollow paces
And hoots of ghosts
Are all around,
And my oasis:
A proper basis
Of all the worlds
Wherever found.
Goodbye, my fear,
New world appeared.
I'm mesmerized
By what i've done!
I shall stay here,
This place is sheer.
New world is rising
Towards the sun.
5. The Pattern
© Copyright: Ахмад Юлаев, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109041204135
Свидетельство о публикации №109041204135
Рецензии