.
When rest seems to be unnecessary
Thoughts do their work
Of expectation and of the past
Of longing and of reasonYet my path leads
Along the sounds of the universal
That touch the depths of my soul
Or by the words of that great land
Written in tsarist atmosphere
At such a moment, my thanks are to silence
And all I need is a cracker
To fill the almost eternal emptiness of my stomach
For perfect filling
And yet my prayer to sleep
Take me once more
Let me linger a few fleeting hours
To touch the sheet that is already wrinkled
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