Where are you the past?

Anshe



Who said that the deceased not more than abandoned?
As you close, distant, native and foreign, my good?
In the yard of the loud birds fighting over bread crumbs,
cloud drops in March snow, in the naked palms to me
and becomes unbearable, but thin blade
cuts the past
and consequences.

Not the first to try to tear off too sensitive skin I
what's thee shiver, this shiver through the years of sweet living,
and in the chest of boiling water, I eating ice cream
smile to lie labyrinths were gently but
I feel unbearable... April sharp razor
cuts the past
a field of battle.

Jute again loop pulls the memory of sleepless nights,
loud croaks the pain merciless black Voronoy,
winds branches in the window knock, howling dragons.
May blooms with apricot, Tosca moved to monotonous.
Even this spring without you, appeared to me a burden
very heavy...
Where are you the past?