L. AT. Lifshits
I've always kept saying, that fate is a game.
That why do we fish, times have caviar.
That the Gothic style will win, as a school,
as the ability to hang around, avoiding the injection.
I sit by the window. Aspen outside the window.
I loved few. However - strongly.
I thought, that the forest is only part of the log.
What is the purpose of the whole maiden, once there is a knee.
what, tired of the dust raised by the eyelid,
Russian eye will rest on the Estonian spire.
I sit by the window. I washed the dishes.
I was happy here, and I won't.
I wrote, what's in the light bulb - the horror of the floor.
What is love, as an act, devoid of a verb.
What Euclid did not know, what, descending to the cone,
the thing is not zero, but Chronos.
I sit by the window. I remember my youth.
I will smile sometimes, sometimes I will spit.
I said, that the leaf destroys the bud.
And what a seed, falling into bad soil,
does not escape; that meadow with a clearing
there is an example of masturbation, given in nature.
I sit by the window, embraced his knees,
in the company of your own heavy shadow.
My song was devoid of motive,
but you can't sing it in chorus. No wonder,
what is my reward for such speeches
no one puts their feet on their shoulders.
I sit by the window in the dark; how fast,
the sea thunders behind the wavy curtain.
Second-class citizen, proudly
I recognize as second-class goods
your best thoughts and the days to come
I give them as an experience of dealing with choking.
I sit in the dark. And she's no worse
in the room, than the darkness outside.