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- Текст
- Beauty which we sell for money
But money proceed through fingers.
Beauty which we buy,
The mask will appear terrible
Beauty which is given not simply so,
Simply so it is spent to the right and on the left
Beauty, that invaluable for everyone
Finds a paper label
The beauty exchanges on empty things.
It is spent on drink and eaten
The beauty vanishes in daily routine
It withers and dries.
We lose our beauty
We spend it for uselessness
We lose our value
Pricelessness becomes selling
The beauty turns to ashes
It thaws as wax, flowing down on a floor
The beauty turns to air
Which are burnt with our avidity
The beauty leaves our world
Its place borrows ours
leprosity the person
The beauty cries above the decaying world
Its tears смоет our cities
Time will come and we shall
recollect that there was a beauty
Protogenic and unique
But then will be already late and our tears
Will not turn to rains and not wash of our pain.
We shall look
in a mirror and to search for the rests
We shall look
in the sky and to search for fragments
We shall look
at the sun and to search for heat
But that we search cunningly with beauty