The vertical and horizontal lines –
Two ones which always keep a great idea,
It is a cross of fate and this is clear,
God’s masterpiece, on which you must rely.
The horizontal line is our world,
Severe, idle, prudent, calculating,
In which each third is quickly elevating,
Each fifth begins to beg without a word.
The vertical is made for human souls,
The real home at which you needn’t bother,
The sun, the sky, the soul are joint authors,
And they will drive away the beastly cold.
But in the middle is a man himself,
He rushes to the left to change direction,
Then to the right, up, down – without perfection,
Oh, God, please, help and save, don’t put to death.
The vertical and horizontal lines –
Two ones which always keep a great idea,
One way is far, another’s plain and near,
Who’ll prompt me which one is exactly mine?
Two lines
© Copyright: Валерия Суворова, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109110206921
Свидетельство о публикации №109110206921
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