Golden cloud spent a night
On the chest of silent giant.
When the morning brought light
It woke up and broke out.
Playing joyfully in blue
It forgot its cozy lodging,
It desired something new
In the new horizon’s searching.
Poor cliff remained alone
In the desert, lost in thoughts.
Being made of solid stone
It was always on these roads.
Golden cloud left a trail
In the cliff’s enormous wrinkle.
Sadness like a viewless veil
Raised inside its static ankle.
(inspired by a poem of Mikhail Lermontov)