The world could always be the nervous one.
The wars like million-thousands of murders,
Consist of Earth, which is the Cosmos's son.
We all become the peace and love's breakers.
Forget the souls. They only make war cars,
And guns, and swords, and then they make great bankets.
"Stay here. Do not fly to other stars.
We get the money not for other planets!"
Eight milliards. Half of greatest die.
They say, not shy: the rulers are so selfish!
That all can make the strongest even cry,
The generals kill us like killing some fish...
I only say: "You, people, do not lie!
Let be the progress, that is all I'd like t'wish".
Пятый Сонет. Оригинал
© Copyright: Нариас Интеприс, 2018
Свидетельство о публикации №118102105951
Свидетельство о публикации №118102105951
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