Дата: 10-05-2010 | 00:42:06
Between the fullness of dreams,
flying apple-trees and sprouting birds,
horses charging through
the descending leaf of beaten gold
and lonely Ishtar blooming blue
on the brow of a bullock lyre-horned,
between this and the other fullness
of waking dreams,
a house and garden, a pond behind,
everything precisely calculated
and fatally verified,
where the sun pours out
his liquid laughter
on ashes and dust –
between these lives,
two cups of an hourglass,
as I fall through its throat,
there is one moment
when I remember
what I am:
a moaning puzzle pressed
by the rush of sand,
a momentary stem
with a boundless phantom flower
on either end.
Вланес, 2010
Сертификат Поэзия.ру: серия 790 № 79844 от 10.05.2010
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