Grains of Salt By Vera Polozkova Translation

Fresh wounds contain some tiny grains of salt,
At night in dreams I see ears of rye,
I was never afraid of pain or fault -
Just of lies.

Forever's index on cover's body.
Two gypsies in a fast cart in delf,
Have never wished death to anybody
But to self.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2015

Poem

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