Each of us weaves his own world
From thoughts, desires and words,
From happiness and fears, from a series of
Waking and dreaming.
From actions, intentions, and doubts,
From truths, innuendo and lies,
From distortions and explanations
We weave our mirages.
It flows in cascades of incarnations
The alchemy of beauty.
Here's a thin scarf wrapped around his neck
Someone's dream train.
The peak of inspiration of the perfumer -
Sensual aroma.
The brainchild of precision and the eye -
Sparkling diamond.
The master is poring over the decoration
Long nights and days -
In the tinkle of silver temptation
The notes are not audible.
Music in stone, architecture -
Every house is like a chord.
The architect has been dead for three hundred years -
His business lives on.
The body, the idea - what came first?
If to distract from thoughts,
Space will respond with a strained chorale
The tremors of taut strings.
And astronomers again and again
They record thousands of years,
As around the axes of the invisible base
A swarm of planets revolves.
Culture, science-the stages of discovery.
Although the bone matter-thoughts are easy...
We weave our world from the finest threads,
We weave like we do... spiders.