.
I am often in the grip of beauty
It is a shadow that binds me to it
And I see the blue sky as heaven
while the grass has the scent of perfume
that I once smelt in Leningrad
It is the feeling of the day in a soft sultry twilight
without me leaving the light.
The reality is so naked
that after a while the fleece of my eyes
takes off. It leads me back to the restless immutability.
So I float on the études. They have their own rhythm.
It is the anticipation of preludes.
When the time comes, they die in a requiem of my existence.
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