Reality becomes a reflection in the windows,
You do not hear sounds, but their echoes.
No longer does blood flow from the finger,
And swims on the rivers,
Holidays and dates are lost on weekdays.

From the edge of the cradle the horizon descended,
The unseen planet became a ball,
Time flies faster, but it seems to have stopped —
Then the soul has grown - it has little space.

Blunt eyes under the legs are already looking
And betrays a weak body —
Soon the next door will open
To “always” from “never”.