Дата: 14-02-2010 | 00:09:39
A nightbird takes my heart
to a pine-tree's lofty branch
and puts it in the nest,
and waits for it to hatch.
If I don't climb the pine-tree now
the shell of my heart will crack
and the hatched bird will never fly low
enough to be caught and brought back.
I sigh, afraid to go up,
as the amber fingers of stars
pull the violet sky through the gap
in my chest, like a scarf of moth-eaten challis.
Вланес, 2010
Сертификат Поэзия.ру: серия 790 № 77495 от 14.02.2010
0 | 0 | 1709 | 21.11.2024. 12:13:31
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