Cold Winter
Your fertile soul rises to the sky
The snow is starting to fall
An advertisement cryes
Buy. Buy.buy!
As a broked doll
There is some mystery in the silence of fate
In your’s pleasant manner of laughing and smile
Your soul has not individual rate
Your progress in flighting is a matter of time
And I see you standing on the narrow waste street
And staring how the snow falls
On the sight ofwhite unlocked gate
Of future,
Which way rolls!
Guram 2000