Тріолет 46

Микола Мотрюк

Чужий для всіх, чужий для себе, І в тьмянім дзеркалі не я... Мов древо, що пожерла тля, Чужий для всіх, чужий для себе... Німі багро́віють поля, Обійми розпростерло небо... Чужий для всіх, чужий для себе... І в тьмянім дзеркалі — не я... На шмаття рве утробу Цербер, Кричать багровії поля, Людські ковтаючи життя... На шмаття рве утробу Цербер, Й стиска все дужче Смерть-змія, Щоб серцем вибухнути з ребер... Чужий для всіх... чужий для себе... І в сні своєму я — не я...

2024-09-25 22:35:48

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