Thursday, February 1, 2018




I helped you to pack your things into a suitcase,
Stuff scattered carelessly,
Entangled in your arrivals and departures.

Expected days have passed.
The day before yesterday turned into today,
With the date of the sentence printed on the ticket.

Gradually, the traces of your stay began to disappear,
The fragrance of your perfume got out.
The last sheet dropped from the calendar.

In our minds there is the autumn solstice
And consent to the inevitable parting.
Emptiness as winter haunts the cold.


You kissed me.
I felt a bittersweet taste in my mouth.
I closed my eyes.
In my imagination I saw the park.
Do you remember?
You said we were like two trees in autumn.

naive, youthful thoughts flew off
-frivolous, migratory birds.
The first chill chased them.
Their joyous trill,
glorifying a perfect love, rang out.
Delusions fell to the ground like leaves,
rotting and turning to dust.
We are firmly rooted in the soil of everyday life.


enamored with the hue of my eyes
you can’t reach my mind’s depth
deaf to quiet protests
you put words in my mouth

bogged down in the trap of guesses
we are lost in the dissonance of feelings
dreams out of tune sound false
our desires pass by indifferently

the seeming closeness separates us
entangled in meaningless sentences
we become increasingly distant
love dies with no right to appeal


New people live in the old house.
They settle down and believe
they become a  part of the landscape.

The view from the window passed.
After a spreading lime tree only a dry stump remained .
Bee choirs in the yellow brilliance of flowers trailed off.
The wind dispersed the scent of the May lilacs.
The white phloxes disappeared from the garden.
The walls are bare, the bricks blush.
The grapevine does not peep through the windows.
It won't offer its sweet berries on the green leaves.

I see the changes
They erase the traces of the former owners.
In different colours the walls blossom,
A new door has been fixed.
Only the time locked in the oak floor creaks the same.


They say she is insensitive
Standing stiffly
She appears indifferent,
suspended in time,
like a spider on a thread.
Not shouting
not crying
not in despair
cold as a stone
Niobe knows how to be a fossilized pillar.


the dead, dry dragonfly in a glass case
froze stiff in its last fluttering of wings
wind did not break its transparent body
colors unfaded by the sun
perished young in the bloom of its beauty
it exists against nature
destined for immortality


I often dream of  sea.
It is black and foamy.

The wind herds the waves,
by the whistling whip.

They  like mad horses rush to the shore,
tramples the fragile boats, throws  the beach.

It's war between water and earth,
between death and life.

I stand alone on a piece of land.
I can escape nowhere


I know well all metamorphosis  of this house.
The new aesthetics  took off its rich ornaments,
The renovations deprived the subtle beauty of Art Deco.
Entangled by grapes, it lies dormant for years in the shadow of lindens .

Stone stairs buckled under the weight of many feet.
After the rain, in the mirror of  a puddle,  the sky is reflected
Brass door handle, in the shape of a dragon ,guards happiness
and the oak door defends admission of the foreigners.

I  sometimes  dream  of my happy childhood,
wander  along corridors and elegant lounges,
visit  the attic filled with memories.
I listen to the rustling of fans and dresses with bustle.

Not so long ago the age of refined ladies passed.
The distant relatives smile from the old photographs.
I walk along a  thin thread woven by time.
I have a key to non-existent door .


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