2018.01.19.
From childhood
1.The wood to crackle into the fireAnd to come a long night
In the basil porch
With smelling of ripe apples
And to fall snow, enormous snow
Up to on the eaves and over
And me on a chair to fall asleep
Like at a drug or a story.
2. With the newspaper on my knees
And with the fallen eyelids
The death to dawn on the trunk
And to kiss my eyes
The old ones to be alive
Peace of the world be ready
Me, a child among the children
And my father, young, outside.
3. And my grandmother to take me
Carring me slowly to the pillow
Feeling how it comes from her
Eternal peace of mind
The wood to crackle into the fire
Under a small pot of milk
To smell of basil
To smell of ripe apples.