We will not die of old age - none,
we will die of old wounds soon.
So pour the rum into the mugs,
pour in trophy red rum!
It has bitterness, and the aroma
of an overseas side which's far.
It was brought here by a soldier-nomand,
who managed toreturnfrom the war.
He has seen so many cities,
Seen Ancient cities!
He is ready to tell about them.
And he is even ready to sing anthem
So why is he silent?..he’s an able.
He has been silent for four hours.
He taps his finger on the table,
then taps by boot weared out.
But still he has a deep desire.
Do you understand it here?
He wants to know what was here,
when he was anythere...
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Author:
Ksey_Gan (
Offline) - Published: April 3rd, 2025 00:18
- Category: family
- Views: 8
Offline)
Comments1
A sense of mystery in this poem that may be more metaphoric than its initial feel. There is tension left with the reader in the hidden. Nicely written.
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