he is taking stars away from the sky
so that they sing the soul
daybreak with music played on the lute
is pleasing to the ear
jaunty touching the life
is becoming the eccentricity of the nature
and with senselessness
a fountain is murmuring with returning echo
of vile said prematurely words
tender sweetness noble customs
and unstable speech
many- happened one
bad will is deluding in order to close
youthful greed of the brain in the cage for canaries
and to break the fearless pride counting on it
that face stripped of dreams
ploughs of the time will plough
furrowing known signs on it
if will be in time...
he is losing the soul awesome
with delight of the red boudoir
filling the empty time with it
only in the light blue bed
he is falling silent under the touch
of the White Angel
unknown by choice...
IT IS ALREADY DREAM
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It sounds as the music. Nice written. Long he remains in the memory. It is worthwhile reading.