How the frost killed

One by one the songs

Seated on the wire.

I covered my ears with my hands

I listen- where the word is born,

Who I am.

I walk with the eyes- open cages-

In order to cease inside me

The colourful parrot- the country.

Three steps in front of me and tree behind

And then again

And then from the beginning

I wanted to lay the railway around

The world.

And I go around, I go around

I go around

I raise. I get lighter, disburdened( relieved), I fall…

The downy and humid(damp) touch of the clouds

Mother hang new curtains.

A slight sour taste is in the mouth of

The boy , who has a standard lamp standing( I am a lamp for him) in me next to his bed

And who moves away like a steered gun

An oppressing touch of warm hands

the sharp glance of dear eyes’

bright projectors…

and in the sky the words caw ( screech)

as the crows frightened by the sound of the gun

be silent, enough!

I anchored one-

And on my head

And in my head

The whole heaven(sky) falls!

 

I begin-

I wrote the crows’ choirs

On the musical lines, the telephone wires-

Simple words screech (caw) in my mouth-

 

Which I coordinate and subordinate

And

Make them complex.