when anxiety chokes the soul and laughter, where the stifling heat of the morning breeze, when loneliness is unexpected visitor comes to stay, I discovered almost by chance these words of the great Julius, so short, so exact ... It seems that others felt the same ever, that in the end, I'm not all alone .. .
lovers
Who is walking through the city
if everyone is blind?
They hold hands, something speaks
between their fingers, tongues
sweet lick the wet palms, run through the phalanges,
and above is the night full of eyes.
are the lovers, the island floats adrift
to deaths of grass, to
ports are opened between the sheets.
Everything is cluttered by them,
everything finds its spirited figure;
but they do not even know
while rolling in his sand bitter
there is a pause in the work of nowhere,
the tiger is a garden play. Sunrise
in garbage trucks,
start out blind,
ministry opens its doors.
rendered lovers look and touch
again smelled the day before.
are already dressed and go down the street.
And only then
when they're dead, when they are wearing,
the city recovers
hypocritical and duties imposed on them daily.
Thanks for being there.
