They say: the world comes to the end -
So poor and desolate pathway;
It will be crushed and thrown away –
Like fragments of a puzzle, they say;
And fire will fight a water-fall,
And air will become like stone;
Sand-rocky-desert, lonely moan –
No one will hear a heartbrake call:
Nor child, nor grass, nor cloud, nor tree
Will answer with their weak respond;
Nor sea, nor lilies of the pond
Escape the claws of agony.
Two voices’ sounds lost in the space
Do will rebuild the World with grace.
Sonnet of the End
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124122802315
Свидетельство о публикации №124122802315
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