White – Black
The ground is white whether of snow or spume,Or, may be, white rose-petals fall,
The even roads cover the distance
From northern frost to southern dawn.
The blackest ocean of the space.
Gives rise to foam of stormy breakers
In pearl hail pattern of the stars
Is sewn the view of the sky's chasm.
The fallen cupola of night
Shadowed no fair beaming brightly,
So the eternal folds of the abyss
Do not dare soil the whiting.
And suddenly, with the dense cloud
Rushing through the precipice of heights
He flies among the stars
And tears with crash the vault of skies.
Upon the placers of the crystal curved
Wrapped in a mist of spaciousness of valleys
The born darkness from light – Dark Lord,
He falls so beautiful and stately.
He tramples slowly on the petals,
In clothes of the son of Night
Behind fragility the black heart
He carefully wants to hide.
Poetry by Alla Antares
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Written on 2007-03-02 at 11:26
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