Публикувано от: bogpan | юли 4, 2018

Κολχίς

They swell the buds of chestnut –
like a wave of a sea cave
with headwaters.

Enigmatic orange pierces
slow cloudy clouds.

And everything is so far away –
in the fog are the snow-white tops.
And even thrown sunny
fan –
do not wake up my blood.
Sinking like a root,
I contemplate,
the circle of stars, the sky,
because,
on the green grass
Marble statues are dead
of the ancient gods.
And the song does not rise –
like an eagle of the seekers
Golden Fleece.

One child dies.

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Responses

  1. The beauty and the depth of this poem is stunning! This world of ours captured in your verses between the swelling the chestnut buds and the death of a child. Masterpiece!

  2. ooh, masterpiece and beauty of your words! in one line you close the whole world of my sadness and fantasy! I am deeply grateful for all the moments of reading!


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