On The Square Poem by Lyudmila Purgina

On The Square



On the square are staying the skyscrapers,
On the four grey concrete walls.
There are the people in masks of great fellows
Spent their days till the end from the birth.
They are tightened in ties so beautiful.
From Paris, shining as highest models.
Their Cup of Life seeming full enough,
But their Happiness seems be somewhere.
Time will pass, and the cheeks'll turn the colour:
Pink to yellow-grey, wrinkled all.
That's the brand, and the seal to that fellows,
Who had rushed to the scene of unknown.
On the four points scyscrapers're staying.
On the cross of the time and the space.
So where do you run this morning?
Don't you see the invisible grid?
See, the squares the colours are turning
From the white to the black, to be fit...

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Lyudmila Purgina

Lyudmila Purgina

Russian Federation
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