Mile after the mile.
Wave after the wave.
Move slowly, as if drinking precious cognac.
My double kayak cuts the lake,
like a dough knife.
And there is neither cloud in the deep blue sky, nor plane.
I'm on the brink of crying
for the sun sets upon the back of that dragon, on which the maples are completely red
still not sleeping,
still growing.
I'll move to the shore.
I'll cling to the willow my boat,
I'll take merriment, joy and sadness with me and go to my hut,
where the stove is always warm.
You might ask why I'm writing all this stuff, what exactly I encode with the sounds of not yet_dead_language,
WHAT does the Author want to say with all this?
To be honest, I don't know myself.
Just mile after the mile,
wave after the wave I dissolve in the world,
I open the door of the room nobody entered before.
___
© Copyright: Valentin Luchenko, 2021
Mile after mile
© Copyright: Валентин Лученко, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №221022301614
Свидетельство о публикации №221022301614
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