I draw your name with a thin twig in a sand,
Like touching the surface of meanings by breath.
Sand grains flows together like dots on a chequered sheet
And lay down one-line in letters as shibboleth.

In every sand letter of your name there’s me,
Untalented, hopeless, irrelevant, but so tender.
The stray wind will blow away your name from me
And I will stay alone on a sand, unshod and in surrender.

I blend in with the crowd
Of those, who’s kin to me.
Who’s tattered, needless and empty,
Extinguished and bowed as shouldn’t be.

I blend in with the crowd
Of Others, who’s no place,
Of Others, who’ve lost all faith and nerves,
But all the still saved their face.

Of Others, who’ve had a rough lesson
From life and those in flock,
Of Others, who’re walled-up to the limit,
Whose souls are under the barn lock.

I’d like to talk about spring,
About nature’s breathe with fresh
And breezy mornings, sunny days,
About feelings in spring plesh.

I’d like to talk about love,
The one that takes you all, in whole!
It’s in your heart! It is inside!
It makes a magic just for all!

I’d like to talk about myself,
The one that I don’t even know,
About myself with different fate…
But truly, I guess I’d better go.

I’m cold… You think I’m really fluey?
I’m not for sure… Maybe you’re right.
The weather’s nasty by mischance for now.
And I’m not wearing my cozy woolly scarf.

This February snows a lot and rages.
I’d like to wrap in plaid and not to leave.
I know it’s blues. I know for certain, sweetheart.
You shouldn’t get a feel for me. I’m peeve.

The spring will come. There will be a revival
Of new ideas, follies and delight.
And I will rise, I will return, my dear,
Better than previous. I will be vitalized!

I’ll be waiting for you at dawn,
Where the night ends,
Where birds chirp in whisper
Like elves from fairylands.

I’ll wash my feet with cool dew
And I will be calmly awaiting,
Where pure thoughts are twisting with osiers
And creating dreams, fascinating.

I’ll be waiting for you at dawn.
Come some morning. I’m here,
Where dew is cool and all-pure
And our dreams are near.

I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.

I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.