Continuous pain
I feel,
Headache,
Melancholy oblivion.
Something is wrong
If no result,
I, like Spartacus,
That "for potrapyv grata."
Hence there is no
Innermost thoughts
Thoughts do not count,
In the emptiness of all stuck.
I want to
Change, change,
And on a horse
Uskakkat in the sky, to disappear.
I live
Prior to the introduction of a Dream
His sword, the complexity
On the threshold of the mosque.
Become a prophet,
A visionary, a poet,
Kroc Kroc for his
Going into this world,
Will focus on the boundary,
For which
Not locked
Doors open space.
In smoothly passive
Night of oblivion
Continuous pain
I feel.
18.10.10g. Z.Sh.
Become a prophet, seer, poet
© Copyright: Игаль Иерусалимский, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110101903100
Свидетельство о публикации №110101903100
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