No More Nevsky Prospect

We will not rent a limousine as it is in vogue today, but we'll take Russian horses - three - in a warming old-fasioned way. We will sluggishly ride through fields and not wishing to come to Peter. Only Syangogue and Mariinsky we would probably want to visit. We will turn to Saint Nicolas Church with three rivers of small size, We will faster and faster go wanting like Mark Shagall - to fly. We'll be riding through Pestel street from one church to another church, and will wave to Muruzi strip that is narrow like Joseph's dream. Then we'll go to Smolny park, there is refined white-blue church, But I'll whisper to you: Desire is much better than death of stone. And will go to Nevsky prospect from the quay of Fontanka river - and we'll clash there like a blow making all modern cars shiver. Why I don't like limos? Mainly because of glasses - they reduce sun to gleaming. More for me they are sluggish. They take away the feeling of Russian legend ride - when with eyes almost bleeding we hurry on like mad. All will drown in the horses' foam, all will drown in Daniel's sperm. There wil be no more Nevsky Prospect. the Imperial street will swirl. And astonished painter will draw the last sketch of cold-weathered town. Because we will be there no more. The reality will fade down. The last clash - and together we go to the empty sky of our dream. All beginnings crawl on to grow, But in Time coincide with nil. That is my desire of speeding, that's my reason of ever-rush. To rule Time - to cut-stretch the minutes and two spaces - in one - combine.