Рецензия на «Поэзия это наркотик» (Владимир Декар)
Head is the endless construction: it's the house where reigns reason... There, from thoughts, are born lines, and your soul is filled with rhythmes. There live poems, songs sang... there's love, there's play and passion. There's a theater of deployed actions, there is a war going on for rhymes... And poetry is a drug, it needs in life... it's a rebus, charade, crossword puzzle. It's the notes of thoughts in a notebook, tediously typing in word, by chance... Бабка Ежка 07.04.2023 06:45 • Заявить о нарушении
Володя!.. очень круто!!! хорошо легло и в переводе... :)
с теплом. Оля. Бабка Ежка 07.04.2023 06:42 Заявить о нарушении
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