And the evening kept whispering hopes…
and the pillow sweet and long dreams ;
Among the chains of presumptions
standing with clenched wet fists.
Thoughts swaying in waltzes
embracing the evening hue
And voices whispered sweetly
a voice of unburdening
It all seemed to be a fairy tale
and thread by thread he sewed the night
Beaten and weary
lying alive in the face of fate.
Of the curtains in front of the door
Between the walls piled up
Stories run on the closed poplars
born among the stars
They came slobbering through the windows
They lay in the veins..