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Антон Аркент, поэт
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Nocturne
Антон Аркент, поэт
Санкт-Петербург
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40
Cписок стихов
Nocturne
365
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0
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10 лет
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10 лет
The world is dying.
Its end is near.
This is the last time
When I come to the edge of fear.
No way to escape,
Not a single hole.
The last spacecraft
Was destroyed by it's possession war
What have you done?
What have you done?
What have you done?
Where have you been?
Where have you lost
All the sense you had?
Whose baby's crying?
The world is dying...
On the carcasses of dead cities
Where its end meets the lifetime road
Slightly burned by the mortal sun
At the end of the human world.
What can you do to
The world out of rage:
Animals in respirators?
Photosynthesis in a cage?
Wastelands of wastelands,
Rivers flow apart.
Metal rods in the nature's body.
Scarce fuel is its heart!
What have you done?
What have you done?
What have you done?
Where have you been?
Where have you lost
All the sense you had?
Whose baby's crying?
The world is dying...
On the carcasses of dead cities
Where its end meets the lifetime road
Slightly burned by the mortal sun
At the end of the human world.
Blood of nature delightfully crying.
Scent of death in this spoiled dome.
Final breath of your parent dying,
Killed by dull and disgraceful scum.
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