In Tibetan dream, being in the Bardo Bashny.Net

< Felix Komarov



In Tibetan dream, being in the Bardo,
And remembering a past life,
Her decomposed inside and out,
As the white ray of the prism.

Body pain will not distract,
Wish empty box,
Passion emerged like sweat,
Now for the uncomfortable.

Life is read as a sheet,
On a stool standing,
Little boy counting sheep,
He wanted to be a hero.

He wanted to fly an astronaut,
Space to hold in the palm ...
The account comes to ninety-five,
Wait, wait a bit ...

Five moments and you're in the Bardo ...
Light blinds bright ...
In the fog twist with you movie ...
Lord, how hot ...

Stuffy and dusty and gnawing anguish,
The night like a knife at the throat,
Satiated boa vein temple ...
And do not listen to the choir,
Spheres that turning hundreds of worlds,
Song weave pattern,
And they sent a heavenly calling,
Heart shivering reproach.

Taste of the trunk, as if licked blood,
In the throat pointing the muzzle,
Pulled the trigger ... choked ... swallowed ...
Pain asleep forever.

But waking up in Tibetan dream,
Suddenly you realize later,
The pain remains, and you're on fire,
And as far stars.

The newly born hell forget,
But the way out of the depths do not close,
And even if you want to live,
Not once will make the lists.

Again stool again longing,
Something did not work again,
Life hit you with a sock,
Twists fate as drawbar.

How long had you blindly pass,
How many times woke up,
How many heart shouted, fly ...!
How many times broke ...

Night ... the monitor ... its white screen,
Dim the light birthday.
From the silence and the pain drunk ...
God forbid humility!

I know that I myself decided to come,
I chose the place itself and ...
Thousandth time shout fly ...!
And lose all, honestly.