| There is an invigorating prick in the temples,
|
| Like bullets that hit, but no lead.
|
| Rivers along the corridors of vessels
|
| They take away my ridiculous mind again,
|
| And there is no expression on the face.
|
| And again the cunning fox is my craving;
|
| She pushed me off her light shoulder and fell down next to me.
|
| She said: “The tale has no end!
|
| You naively build a brave man out of yourself early.
|
| Here is white snow. |
| Come on, soak it up a little more.
|
| Do you see how old wounds still bleed?
|
| Do you remember my quiet bottom,
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| In which he hid from the whirlwind of suspicious dreams?
|
| And I said: “Wait! |
| Now, I am only an observer."
|
| She screamed with foam at her mouth: “Traitor!
|
| Here, so that you don't find a replacement,
|
| You definitely won't feel good without me."
|
| And I killed her without wasting a single bit of nerves.
|
| Forgetting how that thing killed me first.
|
| Without heeding her last: "I'm sorry ..."
|
| I didn’t leave her a chance, because that’s the only way I could grow.
|
| Feelings are eternal. |
| Real.
|
| Everything we have is not for pride.
|
| It seems to be a point, but a drop of regret fell to the ground.
|
| It began to sprout a green sprout,
|
| And then it turned from a blade of grass into a system.
|
| And again, your business is none of my business.
|
| Without a small detail, the foundation still collapsed.
|
| Plunges poisonous arrows into the back,
|
| And I'm looking for her sip with dry lips.
|
| I shout: “Wait!, you shouldn’t have cut so roughly.”
|
| My swearing flies around the empty room;
|
| Walls presses on the gray hair of my temples,
|
| And the stars are still in the sky, but my telescope is broken.
|
| Now, she is silent and there is no point in passion,
|
| Like a swastika, our two grins intertwined.
|
| The bright disk of the sun is glued together by gray clouds,
|
| Now which of us is cooler? |
| Who cares? |
| Wake up!
|
| I'm not here, but where are you - pray tell,
|
| I didn't even exist, you just dreamed it all.
|
| The curtains open, it's time to go home.
|
| Through the light rustle of foliage in the expanses of sunny summer.
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| Feelings are eternal, real.
|
| Everything we have is not for pride. |