.

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