And every people has its own burden...
And secrets every people hides is own shelves...
But it is time to think about, certainly,
When someone is going over the other's heads...
He thinks, it will be easier at least
To find the world, to which he's dedicated...
He thinks: 'I'll hold my hands in fists,
And cover my heart with a mask of beast.'
He thinks: 'Here's the world! I'm at your eyes! '
But world considers him as a toy in game,
As fascinating play on the brightest stage,
Where all the incarnation costs high.
Where every moment with whistling seconds
By your head, as the bullets nearby,
The world is changing from the past through nowaday
To future... And is tearing off the cortex slight
From his mask, which was put on by his fate...
The fancy of the destiny - to hide
The bitter burden in the ages far...
Lyudmila Purgina's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (A burden by Lyudmila Purgina )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
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(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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