***
The summer evening has grown old,
As the town was falling silent—worn.
Look, someone is trying to see his date
So he can share and divide joy by two.
Someone else is roaming alone
And feels no rush--somewhere to go.
But angst is tightly clenching his hand,
And his thoughts are cold and remote.
Yet both these men are on the same road,
And the same air is for both to breathe,
and both are carried on foot some way,
but for one love keeps herself out of reach.
From the outside it is hard to find
What cause exactly set them apart,
For the reasons must be deep,
And concealed they stay inside.
Meeting each other, they both pass:
What’s there in the other to welcome?
Why, there is a soul, but she is out of touch
As long as she is unchosen and denied.
So one of them is trying to reach his date,
Rushing on and forward to meet his fate,
While the other doomed in his own way
Will have the night, in which he may hide.
Мозговой Алексей Борисович
***
Поздний был летний вечер...
Город устал и притих.Тхэ
Кто-то спешит на встречу,
Радость делить на двоих.
Кто-то бредёт одиноко,
Не торопливо, ни как...
Мыслями где-то далёко,
Нервно сжимая кулак.
Оба идут по дороге,
Воздух вдыхая один.
Куда-то несут их ноги,
Но кто-то из них не любим.
Внешне с трудом различимы,
Разве что взгляд выдаёт...
Разные видно причины,
И каждый, с собой их несёт.
Встретятся и разминутся,
Трудно друг друга понять.
К душе не дано прикоснутся,
И все её тайны познать...
Один поспешит увлечённо
К любви, ускоряя шаг.
Закурит другой обречённо,
И скроет его ночи мрак...
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