***
Folds near the lips, as if dried
tributaries, that once fell
at the mouth of a large river.
A trap of embalmed wrinkles
in the mausoleum of your face.
Eyes, sentinels on guard
of unfulfilled hopes, and cheeks,
once looked like hills
and now – like the gullies.
And here is the forehead with the ones moved
tectonic fissures,
that resemble the dams — after all
you cannot cross the wade of life.
A face is like a place, like an uninhabited island,
lived in happy seclusion
under the supervision of tired time.
Yesterday, editor and literary critic Dmytro Drozdovsky received wonderful news about the publication of his…
The war goes on.The war goes on.War runs.War flies.Today I rememberwith what passionin my childhoodwe…
Yesterday, Oleksandr Korotko received a letter to his personal mail, which mentioned the intention of…
Olexandr Korotko is constantly working on new works, which we regularly publish in the relevant…
* * * Love is bitter by separation, by almonds, a ruined era, November, the…
* * * Is it possible to get tired of many circumstances, of monotonous and…