Sviatoslav Zhabotynskyi

venous night flows on the white breasts of god...

venous night

flows on the white breasts

of god

 

this trembling hills

ran away

from a woman\'s dreams

who sleeps with a knife

 

there are leaves

swarm like birds with letters

 

the old woman walks on the ground

ground that suffering from amnesia

 

in her hump 

she carries a late child

 

she will pass

trembling hills

amnesiac lands -

as she passed

the captain of the KGB 

 

her child

will make the stars closer