A branch of jasmine in the buttonhole -
Only a fraction of a small spline,
Time in the palms is more timid than a tit,
More cartwheeling than a melting crane wedge.
A couple of lines that remained in the notebook -
Just a breath of this night and an exhalation -
A jasmine bush in the night palisade,
The tenderness of his half-open lips.
Fear is attached to loneliness,
Oh, the sacred vigils of lovers,
Voluntary hostages of the night,
Tender prayers of his unsatisfied.
A branch of jasmine in the buttonhole
© Copyright: Артём Огурцов, 2022
Свидетельство о публикации №122102603582
Свидетельство о публикации №122102603582
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