My Painting
In my childhood, lying in the fragrant grass in the meadows,
I tried to join the club of continuous changes
the shapes of the white containers of steam.
At that time it seemed to me that all those faces, mountains, rivers,
forests, dragons are not just an exercise of my imagination,
but my mutual playing with someone invisible.
If I could paint, I would paint with stones, grass, flowers, alder,
puddles and tartar. I would paint with the fog,
with the singing of roosters at dawn,
with the sound of the train,
with the clicks of the silver horseshoes of the prince and his chariot.
And I would paint with waves: alpha, beta and gamma.
I would paint with colorful quarks on the space-time sheets.
I would paint with the dreams of a five-year-old boy about a golden time,
about his mother being young and healthy forever.
I would paint neither with paints, nor with words,
but with the fact that behind them,
when I say: "I love you, darling, I love you so much".
08.46 07/05 2021
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© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121050704112