The Cypress Broke

The cypress broke like a minaret, and slept on the road upon its chapped shadow, dark, green, as it has always been. No one got hurt. The vehicles sped over its branches. The dust blew into the windshields ... / The cypress broke, but the pigeon in a neighboring house didn't change its public nest. And two migrant birds hovered above the hem of the place, and exchanged some symbols. And a woman said to her neighbor: Say, did you see a storm? She said: No, and no bulldozer either ... / And the cypress broke. And those passing by the wreckage said: Maybe it got bored with being neglected, or it grew old with the days, it is long like a giraffe, and little in meaning like a dust broom, and couldn't shade two lovers. And a boy said: I used to draw it perfectly, its figure was easy to draw. And a girl said: The sky today is incomplete because the cypress broke. And a young man said: But the sky today is complete because the cypress broke. And I said to myself: Neither mystery nor clarity, the cypress broke, and that is all there is to it: the cypress broke!