Silence
Maria Khamzina
You see, my silence means we've grown up.
Here is the January and the snow has settled – it's not our fault.
If the shadows are increasingly long, if the birds are screaming in bad weather –
It's a sign of a rainy year. We don't owe him anything.
Each meeting to the edge of the full, each name raving nights
We're not in the pillow screaming – we met the heroes of the war –
With the universe, tit in hand, with the eternal Ghost of the female yoke.
We studied men on books, and on cracks on a ceiling.
Colored glass faded. After all illusion, too, does.
And guilt poisoned wells-poisonous time flowed,
But ran out once-yesterday. So shallow oceans sometimes,
So the bark slides to the ground, exposing the overgrown wounds.
It does not hurt. Not to disturb. There are half more pages in our book.
Innocent is not innocent.
And love has no boundaries.