Somewhere in the twentieth century

—- авторский перевод —-

You took your pictures from the home album,
leaving yellow marks on naked pages.
Gustav Flaubert once told the simple words:
“Madame, we lived beyond our  means.”
But this was better than
Guy de Maupassant characters and their sins.
For this I am infinitely grateful to you.

Yes, we were always in the red.
It's true.
The fortune never smiled at us.
I sold my mind, my love, my watch,
you kept them in the wooden box under the bed
and very often in a cherry sideboard.
And thus I paid the rent and saved your honor,
and my road to calm.

Prenuptial Agreement of a discord
It is a hustle and maybe something very much tragic.
Green eyes feline impudence
and frigid look that stirs up passions
on bed sheets of shame
and interrupted happiness and joy.

Imagine,
things happened: fights and disappointments.
Or maybe all these were dreams?
Someone concealed the truth and sense,
and not informed us at all.

I knew,  that you will leave.
that you will sail and you will fly away...

and not for few hours or few nights, but forever.
And springs of days will stop.
And strings that silencing the night will break.
I would not find another one.

It’s inconcevable...

And you had gone.  And I...

Yes, I'm here with an outstretched hand
in empty space,
on dumb balcony.
Somewhere in the twentieth century
lingered and stuck ...

Come back.

12.2018 - 4.2021