Читать книгу Time and love. The novel in verse - George Pospelow - Страница 38

Daily raging monsoons

shred everything to pieces,

or change the mood and play,

making us fall asleep.

It’s either dashing of ghosts

in C-Sharp Major, Presto,

or dispersion of Heaven Adagio

by the lightweight among them.

Also, driving us to houses

for weeks and showing scum,

or, as a brake, viewing

tons of mercy and devotion.

Half-year weather is theirs —

endure, and take it as is.

They, call them or not,

disappear the second half-year.