Boy-Origami
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Forgetting that poets - are little mages
I stand as a column, my face flushed crimson,
Before a cute boy that is made from paper,
On piece of which I wrote once his image.
I was always told that I am clumsy, handless,
that I wrote a phantom, they say, and what for?
But he stands, so beautiful - in the line pants
And the plaid shirt, like a sheet of a notebook.
With a broken heart (you shoud read - a washtub)
Understanding: it's time to elope by running,
I become again as an open fire
And I kiss the hand-made boy-origami.
Bu şiiri puanla
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