***
The stones of memories, warmed by the sun cools down.
Summer, like a shadow from a sundial,
reminds a happy times. Where is she? Did she
hide in a matchbox? Open it
and the days are like logs floating down a river,
will take you to the past, to your native shores,
and moistened matches will wait their time
and will warm the heart with red heat.
* * *The moonlit shore of the sun,a promenade of hallucinationswith the night tidesand the…
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…