Destroyed bridges
of dreams,
intoxicating potion
of poverty –
weakness
of my country
we drink from the horn
of abundance
and in the bins
of endless
despair
unwittingly,
by chance
we put never-dying
flowers
of hopes.
Translated by Natalia Ogienko
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While night declaims, essential peacefully melts, dissolves, disappears in the cloudless air of life-giving oblivion.…
*** The last city, of the last star. Holidays of happiness. Years of doubt, years…
*** Childhood – flower pollen, garden of time is fading, prairie of expectations, silk grass,…
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