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A bunch of short verses

Год написания книги
2019
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You’d sought mysterious instinct

As felon vagabonds we love again



Unfledged the youngest nom-de-plume

You like a feather floats in the sky

And wafting through the open air

We never love each other on the stage



For heaven’s sake I overcome temptation

I shall be playing with the naughty Time

Thine slightest touch I never take it

I’ll catch it only in my dream…



I wanna be befriend and shadow of you

I feel the impulse of your heart again

And every day I talk with silent trees

I’d come to Thee but little rather late



Dull fields in winter whisper

All twigs are frozen today

I heard dim sounds only

The snowflakes are glistering in vain



A. Glukhov. Self-portrait with horns. 2019. Kolobova collection in St. Petersburg.



A silver thread was sewn by azure light

I won’t tell the truth next morning

At dawn we start to dance again

And listening to the howl music…



Yet I am standing lonely on field

These days are nothingness for me

So many visionary precious…gone

Am I Thine lone stranger now?



In slumber-land to Thee I blow breeze

So many birds keep flying lordly

In deepest forests they lit hearts

As madman we shall dance and dance



One bird had brought to me a Message

The hugest vastness in Thine Dream

Who stands on cemetery yard?

Too late I came to thatched hut…



We won’t stride together in this world

Thee cannot send a miserable message

Beneath the tree I’m listening your heart

I stroke grass with silent meditation


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