Each touch of the thin branches to the sky

< Felix Komarov



Each touch of the thin branches to the sky
collect tribute as a crust of bread
picks up a stranger, will shake the dust ...
and in the soul of a wound sprout wings.

God Give us bread
soul hungry
even a pinch of sky
not fit for you.

Ambassador separation let your eyes from salt
pure tears of pain will hold on
light the way from heaven to the roof
from me to the branches ... and a little bit higher.