...And the beckoning chime of the clock will sound,
The winged turn of the shooter will announce,
And a trace in the soul is a vague pattern,
Time applies with its clubfoot spur.
On the bloodless emerald of silence
The twilight cries like a silent drop,
The selfless circle of crystal
On a thin stem gossips about fate.
And everything is bright... The lunar shine in the mirrors,
The outlines of transparent words spin.
The sound ends outside the echo,
And again love stands like a tear in the eyes...
1983
*** ***
Expiration
© Copyright: Сергей Муценко Избранное, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125010908240
Свидетельство о публикации №125010908240
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