Там, где утро чуть тронуто дымкой. Читает Демирина. Where the morning is slightly touched by haze.

стихи читает автор Демирина. Where the morning is slightly touched by haze, Turning pink in the dark limit, Everything yesterday is like a soft tear, A shiver of joy in a drunken body... Shadows of herons, suspended in poses, Not in a hurry to wake up among the ducks, Clouds, clouds in the June convoys According to the celestial time of day... And yesterday it was as if you had never lived, So captivating early morning: With a blue gaze, the existential, undead, Skipping the swirls of mother-of-pearl Through a body blissful with joy... Hello, what is not in the world, So that you can dance and sing, And drowned in the beginning of summer! Demirina reads poetry. Там, где утро чуть тронуто дымкой, Розовеющей в темном пределе, Все вчерашнее мягкой слезинкой, Дрожью радости в выпитом теле... Тени цапель, зависшие в позах, Не спешащих проснуться меж уток,