House Of The Oblivion Poem by Maria Barbara Korynt

somewhere on crossroads our footpaths tangled up
moved signposts bumpy hard shoulders
there is no place for feet sharp pebbles will wound
they will slash the skin as the knife in hand of your enemy
watch this glass of broken panes
from windows falling out
it already there lies on the footpath of the house of the
oblivion
and you don't walk that way
where darkness in backstreets hidden
it is sleeping in shoulders of villains
or with rat is fleeing
shadow of those nights
when great fear transfixed
with stiffness of the neck and shoulders
all the way to the head
in whom rumbling sounds of the idiotic fight
carried on still boomed out
of immature thoughts
still completely alien to us
so it is hard for her today to understand the meaning
because didn't spare defeats
at least gave us the weather
and longed-for peace
we don't have ourselves...