Smooth

< Azay



My feelings are clean-shaven,
smell too sharp,
I left myself today,
germinated pea to another.
Yesterday I was drunk-wise,
and now the beast beaten,
I myself lost easily,
or again a saw.
And there, where the sky is wet?
Above me laughing old age,
less than a half-century with gray,
and the grandchildren are not there, left
swept lived, soon,
not wanting to know what will happen,
Auburn seeking ... seems,
Yesterday I was born in the autumn.