***
The night touches your eyelids with gentle hands, and you
recover your sight with the silence of a forgotten memory, living
in the shadow of uncreated eternity. Short-sighted days
look into the pupils, tired from delight, and spin
a documentary film of frightened events
in the empty hall of imagination.
Yesterday, editor and literary critic Dmytro Drozdovsky received wonderful news about the publication of his…
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