The Path Poem by Evgeniy Filimonov
The Path
Inspire the fleeing
to rows of the free.
On our backs is written,
slaves we at three.
Blood at the idol.
Today we stand,
Forsaking painted mirrors.
Refusing the velvet letters.
Perched on boulders.
We rattle the dwelling
out of caves and out of thickets.
For eyes in the cosmos will see.
Our vessel is creation.
Our oars never sullen.
Our sails the birth of invention.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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5/3/2024 9:43:01 AM # 1.0.0.1119
