Samarkand is not so far
The Baltic
stopped to shake the boat anchored
The small port
lies in quiet
and Travemünde remains silent
Waiting for a storm
That will not come
The lighthouse is lit red
And the deserted beach gray
A tourist runs to an inn
holding his hat
A crying baby
The sweet matron who cradle
And a shot in the distance
A puff
A cloud of gray thickens
Sudden
And everything seems
For a perfect time
Building and eternal
Diorama silent
Then the howl
The cry and the clash of chipped teeth
and explosions and other explosions
tracks and hoof
Lance and gun
molars and bone
grin is blabbering
War has come
E even seems to shake the Baltic
How aroused from a sleep
Lazy and too heavy
a distance a storm
A rumbling around
A solitary wave shattered on the shore
No surf
I follow her to get lost in the sand
disappear drawing
Ghirigori and sinuous lines
Lubeck is far
And I remember her
glasses and the smell
I smile
The battle came
Samarkand And maybe it's not
so far.
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