5 November 2020

These days

The Sky is now a moldy plum,
Pear juice is dripping from the Sun.
The Earth's rotting, the reason wanes,
Tomorrow's only dust in Space.


Penészes szilva most az ég,
A Napból körtelé csorog.
A Föld rohad, kihalt az ész,
A Holnapunk csak ürhomok.


  1. Tomorrow's only dust in Space.

    Η απλότητα της Ποίησης. Υπέροχο.

  2. Hello dear Edit, finally I visit your blog again..
    This poem is so beautiful, no one writes like you.
    My blogging is going very slow, but I am still there sometimes.
    Take care, my friend.

    Hugs, Ida


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