Самый мрачный денди на этой вечеринке



Dead poets fall in love
with charming odes.
Dead poets sow and grow
a vision of the thoughts.

They do so many things
I never did.
They know all secret words,
they know, indeed.

When one dies all in pain -
the poets will survive.
With poison in their veins -
they will revive!

Why every poet is
a little boy?
Why every poet feels
no fear, no joy?


@темы: I failed John Keats