40 years under the rain
and still the desert....
lives in my clothes.
40 years under the rain
and still my women....
are made of paper.
40 years under the rain
and still dostoevsky....
punishes my sins'..
Deserts living in one's clothes is bearable enough. But for deserts to live in the heart is bane.
Just let the desert live in your clothes, not in your heart.
dostoevsky? ? ? Russia is still dying but Dostoevsky is alive for ever?)) Great novels are not a real life that is much more complicated... So many implies and meanings in your shorrt lines: Bible, russian crazy souI... I only don't have an idea where paper women came from? to be continued...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow...this is really good. Thank you for sharing.