There are people there, singing their songs
Light merry tunes for idle entertainment
I’ll sing my song to you, for we – alas – belong.
I’ll sing this song, no reason or constrainment.
I'll put a curse upon your crooked smile
Upon our meetings’ interweaving
I’ll put a curse, that you will have to die
Before I see you leaving...
Instead, imprisoned in my poems
You’ll be the hero of triumphal arches,
A desolate eternal regal roamer,
who will come back to me from everlasting marches.
I'll shake the road dust off of your weary frame.
You’ll be as ever devilishly handsome.
I’ll smile - your gaze will become bright again.
I'll take a closer look and see -
It is your grandson.
To Alex
© Copyright: Нина Вольга, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123041007349
Свидетельство о публикации №123041007349
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