The sky is the color of the seas,

pastilles, candied fruits

Kilometers of mighty holy lands...

I would write about the sad -

but here's the sunset...

I would like to write about the destinies -

but here it is - March!

I tried hard to cry after

the epochs that raised us have passed away...

How to write about the war if there is ballet?

Flocks of birds, oceans and everlasting jazz?

We eat fruit and drink wine

And we sleep with the windows open at night...

And we dare not to judge anything else,

Except for the truth that each of us is loved...

The one who is needed is risen,

The one who is not needed is fallen.

Anything happens, but let's be honest with ourselves:

The young acacias rule the world

What will you take from a poet

at the beginning of spring?..