Her Third Batch of Poems

Speaking In Tongues
Scribbling In Voices

LARISA SIDYUK

All It Takes

I know, we met before

It's something strange that has to do with fear







Night is damp and hot
And no matter what,
Crystal winds will not
Rock the trees.

Time is passing by
And your little white lie
Is a napkin that lies
On my knees.

It's no pain at all
For the heart to fall
Like a plastic doll
From the shelf.

Like a cracked old jar,
Like a dead burnt star,
Like an ugly char
Of itself.

Winds are growing old,
Time is packed and sold,
Specks of ash are cold
On my hands.

Walls of safety glass,
Words of graveyard grass.
All it takes to pass
Sinking sands





I know, we met before,
Some day before we were dead.
But all I remember
Is lights on the shore,
A seagull over your head.

I know that some time ago
Higher than seagulls we flew.
But all I remember
Is sea below
And fanthom ships in the blue.

A crossroads of shadows and rains,
A sound of distant trains
That ripples the glass in the windowpanes --
Is all I remember,
Is all that remains.





It's something strange that has to do with fear,
His gentle touches and revengeful stings.
Old papers flapping their boneless wings
Will say no more to those who can't hear.

Nor will His avaricious shade that dyes
Old persian carpets red under their feet
Force them to see disgrace and defeat
In the obscure twilight of His eyes.

When lazy silence pouring down the walls
Reaches the bottom of a wakeful night,
He creeps across their memories, He calls
For blindfold insanity to fight

Their stainless reasons, their little lies,
Their total disability to dream...
A leaking boat with thousands of «whys»
Capsizes in the middle of a stream.