I miss you, dear friend,
so painfully and hopelessly,
practically nothing know about your real life
except your capabilities
to get fully and profoundly
to all nature, precepts and precursors
which could produced
such illness, attraction and attachment to you.
I thinking about you
day by night
but cannot make
a smallest step
toward right direction,
toward you and your vicinity,
my dear.
It’s so hard
day by night
kept my thoughts,
my imagination, fantasies
tightly attached to you
and yet stayed so far from you
so secluded and abandoned
by the hopelessness,
as if I have been
the old-fashioned stone monument
of soviet leaders,
forlorn somewhere and ruined
into some backyard or garret.
Yes, love made me get out
from this our world
and from the other too
which might to come after our physical ending -
it seems to open the door
into quite new third world
where getting inhabited
my strange love
under the quite different sets of laws,
defining time, space, our presentences,
our senses of what is close and far
and other parameters.
I miss you, dear friend,
so painfully and hopelessly,
practically know nothing about your real life,
submerging deeply
into area of total desolation and uncertainty.