The Sun Of The Lamp Poem by Valerie April-Milak

The sun of the lamp blinds my sight.
A mystery draws to the steppe's light,
Of empty minds,
That shimmer on screens,
Watched by millions of yawners at dawn.
And you, like a fool of another kind,
Perish in my eyes,
Troubled by this sight.
Like sharp razors that line our way.
Forget this moment without delay,
Otherwise sadness will drink your weary lids,
And Deyneka's canvases will rise before you.
I ask you to calm this wretched cry.
Today, the Russian reader,
Extinguish the light of the seas,
That disturb your fathers' dreams,
Once more blood will measure humanity's worth.
And as love drowns out the pain,
Crowning the ages.
Live ceaselessly -
Little man.