I foolishly believed that land of Robinson
Is out at sea, forsaken and distraught,
While it had slid right under my two feet,
It follows me wherever I might go.
Wherever I would run, it pulls my coat,
Which way I turn, it hides behind my back,
It constantly appears along my road
And watching over (stopping me from wrack?).
Who are you? Friend? Then why keep me imprisoned?
The enemy? What did I do to you?
You’re giving me the cold shoulder, not the reason,
You persevere. Our tte-tte is due
Again and some, and bland into horizon
My past endeavors, enemies and friends,
There’s nothing left to liven, to entice me
To step away from Robinson's silent land.
The Land of Robinson
© Copyright: Гульнара Элрод Умарбекова, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №219011902032
Свидетельство о публикации №219011902032
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