Lev Brekhman Poems

The sounds of the train
Are like the notes of music.
Forward, forward - again
One's head is too enthused.
...

The crime you only want to commit
Is scavenging you from inside.
It does not have to like your meat,
But has to make you want to die.
...

My memory once went insane
Began to tell me only the truth.
I saw my whole life inane -
Akin a rotten, wobbly tooth.
...

Among the whims of being - not being
You're swimming madly - to..?
As if along a vibrating string,
You are vibrating, too.
...

This state... or condition... is akin to a trance.
A quantity of vodka or cognac...
I tried it, sure, more than once,
Soon losing with myself contact.
...