Friday, September 1, 2017




The lures  appear out of nowhere and weigh next to nothing.
Light and airy - they sneak quietly through life,
They are translucent, barely visible and noticeably weak.

They do not have a specific gravity of serious sins.
Quickly, in ad- hoc mode, they  justify the offenses.
They do not leave  the marks of their stay in memory
and conscience.

They abandon responsibilities, forget the dates on the calendar
They sit comfortably in a chair
and fly to the blue realm of dreams,
where  the aromas of coffee are entangled in the whiff  of the cheesecake or apple pie.

No regard for calories ,
they add cream and delicacies to the ice- cream,
They melt in the mouth the sweetness of stuffed chocolates,
In the evening they serve a glass of champagne with strawberries.

On the sunny and warm days they invite one to walk to the park
to buy from a florist  the bouquets of violets
with their last few pennies.
The blameworthy and reckless, they do not worry about finances.

Small enticements and small fibs know each other  vey well.
They together discount the extraordinary beautiful handbags, dresses and shoes.
Sometimes they occasionally purchase  the colorful
scarves and  the beads.

Innocent sins are full of irresistible charm and grace,
And as water droplets falling on stone systematically,
They crush the monolith of serious standards and steadfast rules.


In the modern world,
full of rush and brilliant inventions,
I am a living relic of a bygone age.
I keep some strange treasures
and a sheaf of yellowed letters
inside a sentimental drawer.
I impart colours to the faded memories
and I allow the past moments to return.

Just for me
the lilacs bloom again in a long-gone garden.
The dried four-leaf clover foretells good luck.
Someone, who is no more, worries about my health.
Love spells, from many years ago, return to me
and the withered petals of red roses smell intense.

From the position of an omniscient being
I read the sentences from the old correspondence.
I carefully study the art of life
and gain respect for these by-gone events.


with my body, I am near to the roots
with my thoughts, I reach the longest branches
I soar towards the sun
I caress the green canopy

the tree records years in its rings
warm-cold, dry-wet
and I record emotions on a piece of paper
sadness-joy, love-loneliness

we are dear to each other
often, I embrace its trunk
maybe it will remember the touch of my hands
rustle with memories.


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