Fate...

< Dmitry Cherashny



Take throw notebook, goose feathers
week. At year. Lucky -. All
And get away lightly, leaving the door
annoying friends and bored ladies,
which are not just in the shadows, in the basement,
enthusiastically dreamed day and night long.
And he wrote. But I read these letters almost - not rise up from the sheet plane
. Hundreds are dead - not one squadron
Origami of thoughts -. each wall
Here they will decay. It's a pity. And before cheerfully
and he seemed contrived "Satan's Ball».
How cruel fate! From its maze
not go back - a life lived almost
. Thonet raft dreams. Heart loudly as bell,
beats, chest moans: how is it, how is it ...
There is nothing to express thoughts - kinked
feathers. In the dim light of the basement frozen year.
He retreats. Gone, leaving the door
unknown friends and come up with the ladies ...