Transformation - акросонет
Reflecting stars in ancient stylish mirror,
Annoyed no more - there's nothing to annoy,
No more neglected by the Total Zero -
Soon he will change this pennyweight of Troy,
Fade in this rosen purples of Cairo.
O, my effulgent, outrageous hero,
Right, right you are, and thus - all hands ahoy!
Millenniums of powerful descents,
Aeons of growing movements in the Substance.
The Sense-in-Being, maybe Being Incense,
Is what you have to find at Poet's Customs.
Outperform yourself or otherwise
Nobody'll win for you that cursed sur-prize.
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