Читать книгу Русский паркур / Russian parkour - Евгений Типайлов - Страница 25

Steal me from reality

To a fairyland.

Everyday banalities

Hold me in the hand.

In a global session

Good and Evil fight,

Economies’s recession

Brings spiritual plight.

Take away all attributes,

Take away all goods!

Ceasars have evaporated,

We hear only Brutes.

Days spread out in vapor

That diffuses will,

Nothing seems to matter,

Doomsday does not thrill.

Progress flows like deluge,

We’re too weak to stand,

You can float in sewerage

If you’re out of date.

People used to rebel

If they felt entrapped.

Now they love their own cell,

Comforted with apps.

The glow of spirit’s faded,

There’re no heroic songs.

When art is in an empty can,

It means that something’s wrong.

Voluntary confinement

In the separate cell

Of hi-tech refinement

Rings an alarming bell.

Cell phones are absorbing

The glow of people’s eyes.

Is there a point in hoping

That hope will never die?