It is so hard to speak to you, I know.
I should not lie - I will deceive myself.
All words are traitors, like the summer snow.
They hear not me and cheat on huge bookshelf.
These tricky words you only wish to hear,
Don't even me, your only own play.
Nor sense, nor life, but stupid pure fear.
My life is noise without light, I say.
I want to cry because I need your whisper,
I need your flight, I pray thee, hear me, -
All words are silent, dark, the deepest fissure,
And do read you because they laugh at me.
My life, my torment: speak and understand...
But all I could - to create the silent dream, -
Like guardian in distant borderland...
Its whole price like mirage, mist and steam.
Should I allow my words become alive?
Become like them, believe what they believe?
The silence of words
© Copyright: Игорь Пухов, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115112001095
Свидетельство о публикации №115112001095
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