Sketch
Pavol Rogáľ is drinking
the apple wine.
He is probably ashamed of parents,
that's why he's going a little bit
lower,
he's sitting down on another gravestone.
Tonight
Tonight
the wind was soughing
furiously –
as though the sea was howling outside,
that loyal Jefferson's puppy,
stones as the sea animals
walked into the water...
Tonight the wind was storming,
medieval packs of wolves
were going around my body,
their jaws chattered, the wolves threatened.
But I was not afraid –
as when a fallen soldier is grasping the grass
I was grasping your daydream,
and smiling forever.
Night
That was a bad night.
Cur dogs were howling
into my heart,
somebody tormented me
by crying from inside
and he called on someone,
who was quietly walking
around a deserted house.