Shoulders Support the World

There comes a time when you no longer say: my God.

Absolute debugging time.

Time when it is no longer said: my love.

Because love turned out to be useless.

And the eyes do not cry.

And the hands only weave the rough work.

And the heart is dry.

In vain women knock at the door, you will not open.

You were alone, the light went out,

but in the shadow your eyes shine huge.

You're all certainty, you don't know how to suffer anymore.

And you expect nothing from your friends.

It matters little whether old age comes, what is old age?

Your shoulders support the world

and he weighs no more than a child's hand.

The wars, the famines, the arguments inside the buildings

just prove that life goes on

and not all have freed themselves yet.

Some, finding the spectacle barbaric

they would rather (the delicate) die.

There is a time that dying does not worth it.

A time has come when life is an order.

Just life, without mystification.