To be able to love probably-the-art
No, not our self-deception.
We wore out the holiday feeling,
Like an old boring sundress.
A penny coin has been exchanged,
Meth on the finger, a break in the heart,
Uplacheno,otkazano,inveterate
With autumn leaves and rain.
And let the soul sometimes storms and blizzards
And all the bridges to return burned,
Don't run away from the winter cold,
And simply to live a premonition of spring.