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Fly away black bird,
perhaps you’ll encounter a carcass
or someone kind
will offer it to you.
You’ll hide in the dry bushes with food,
Your black feathers will flutter in the wind,
satisfied and full,
your body
will heavily descend again to the ground.
I was simply singing,
watching red poppies
in the field,
thinking of nothing,
just remembering
the sea of my childhood,
as Banville does
in his book.
How pleasant it is,
even in winter,
to hear the murmur of the sea.
We are as moral
as we are able to be,
just never forget the principles.
During travel,
I love looking at the mountains,
the roads lit with lamps,
simply staying with myself,
sleeping,
reading, for example Lessing,
the world seen from the window, the houses,
the human trace in these houses.
I wear black clothes.
The world is dark for me,
I notice bloodstains on the snow,
Someone has been sacrificed to death again,
The gate of evil does not close.
My heart is as dark as a black cloud,
Perhaps one day I will no longer wake up,
I will vanish into eternity.
Somewhere far away
meadows,
a small spring,
the sound of a lyre,
smiling people.

In cornfields,
peasants working.

I searched for a medicinal herb.
The one we feared
In our deep childhood,
That filthy one hurt us.
A child is never wrong.
Let us never forgive
Our tears.
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