Posted by: bogpan | февруари 28, 2018

A trivial day

The light is fading in the trivial day
(was softened by the dim light).

We wanted it so
when with tremulous fingers
we were pulling aside soil.
We were splitting eyes up.
On our backs we were carrying seas.
Tomorrow they’ll take away our rhythm.
It is taken today.
Between the whiles of evenings I see –
a light wing.
Then it is like somebody says to me warmly:
“A trivial day”

and alpha is written in manuscript.



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