The autumn train running with whistel
Smell of corpses denoting a future
It's dawn inside the shoes
All over the azure fields, there are bodies
Beheaded, some plants also flowering!
All over the azure fields, there are bodies beheaded, some plants also flowering!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
In fact, we do not have the morning. There is no stability in human engine or train. The poet is going. The dark journey in the hope of dawn. The spirit of the poet's heart - is going to blow the whistle on a regular basis, rules. Shoe foot injuries - beheaded some trees, some wearing flower drop. Penitent poet! Not. But the poet knows - he did not kill the tree. Own accord - not isolated from the plant flowers. Waking up was called for. This stampede death, or awakened. (In humans - and to the same sources) , because the trees, flowers, nature, everything is waiting for the dawn. Everything in nature has its own soul - to decorate. If you do not come early - worth their coloring. So stranger poets, at the dawn of the shoe is inside. Everything trampled, gave a new, permanent morning.