*
... all the same,
no new events,
silvered waltz
naive moths –
snowflakes fall…
a vague silhouette, -
fearful formlessness
passer's,
at the traffic light filled up
similar
mountain whitish,
snow petals…
moving somewhere, a mysterious phantom,
snow-covered landscape of blinded lanterns
it, silently, conducts,
and then
alone with the full moon
me
and snowfall dementia -
the nonsense of open doors,
I want to come to my senses
and in the sky to shout
a fill the sky,
if only I could hurry!
nothing connected,
seal my seal -
and you, -
take,
lift up my head,
Don't say,
what is it-does not appear
I know the temper
your
guides'….