Jul 19, 2009, 12:26 AM

* * * 

  Poetry » Other
518 0 6

 

 

 

                                                                На шията  на огнен кон

                                                                увисна воденичен камък.

                                                                Пресъхна мелницата.

                                                                Не се купува обич.

                                                                Не се продава вяра.

                                                                Кръвта... не е предател.

                                                                Загърнат в пяна, издъхна конят.

                                                                От ноздрите му изтече на буци

                                                                житото човешко.

                                                                Илюзии, мечти, ридания - изчезнаха.

                                                                Незнайна,

                                                                тиха уличка прегърна детски смях.

© Атанас Ганев All rights reserved.

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