***
Transmigration of love. Silence opens wide confused smile of the day. How far to approximation of
your breath, sleeplessness of lips! Hands fly apart in
different cities and nights. Inquisitor’s time
seeps in drops, minutes and kills
your tenderness with the monotonous indifference of the sky.
*** How can you singthese wordsat the height of glory,don’t you seethat all our vowelsare…
*** Alarmous sorrow of fogs hides from hellish, stranger’s eyes the museum of our waxen…
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…