* * *
The moonlit shore of the sun,
a promenade of hallucinations
with the night tides
and the tides of loneliness,
where in the arms
with frightened insomnia
we wander through the labyrinths
of memories
with those without whom
we are no longer in the past,
or future life.
Everything is majestic
and meaningless
like a house bent over
under the weight of old age.
Something must have broken
in the script of our
of our imagination.
There comes a time when everything loses
meaning.
In the hallway of unaccustomed nights and frank of expectation smelled alive, but none of…
English translation of Oleksandr Korotko’s "Moon Boy" has become a literary discovery for students of…
* * * Pre-war summer of booksellers. Time has passed, and a happy life has…
The long, lonely streets of time - manic and tragic with chimes with chimes beating…
* * * Prediction as prayer - white magic rebellion over the madness of black…
Is it possible to know oneself to such depths where the light of knowledge of…