Petya Dubarova by unknown author translate by Ann WoodPetya chooses eternal darkness. I understand it. And I am happy that my sister and I were in a class at the Russian High School (Burgas). Sleep peacefully, lovely Petya! Different people leave. The planet of goodness is not the Earth!
"The countless crying shells
they touch me with their blackness,
and crabs from their dark holes
they flash with salty wetness.
Cold salt burns my feet
and the foam in my palm melts,
whitened seas are vibrating
with the wind, their cold drank.
How I want to be with mussels green,
but I'm leaving the house by default
and the mussels leave as if with me,
with me goes the warm wave.
Now I understand: in my warm palms
the salt sea is concentrated.
My dreams are shaky
it is in a hurry to fit. "
/ Petya Dubarova /
Poetry by Ann Wood
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Written on 2019-12-04 at 00:46
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