usual miracles

Arising slowly invisibly
The sun has stood by…
Oh, my poor wishful thinking
Awaiting the miracle, why?

It is still out of time
But I remember all
The years have made a wine
From that sad knotty story.

No poison but healthy bitterness -
A taste of the annoyance…
I’ve swapped my senses’ misery
For drama of the story…

And classical personages live
And die around here
I visite grave of queen Lear
She never read Shakespeare

No difference is but the one:
I know the end of the stories,
I know the end will come,
That needs no actor’s sorry.

I see no observable thing
In their so noisy orations,
My miracles are here as wings
Of each fantastic sensation…

Sensation of day to be night,
That vision of clouds that’s rising
And every solely light
Has struck up on the horizon…

The smells of the autumnal forest
Awakened that raining day…
The dance of the wind jolly follows
The chestnut locks’ flight on her way.

That’s why I have got to be glad
And make all my thoughts more lyrical,
No sorry under the pledge
To see each of usual miracles.

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