The rays of the evening sun still had traces of warmth and sparkled beautifully on the window panes. They filled me up. Today they added perfection and colored the endless horizon in the color of scarlet. I enjoyed drinking tea by the radiator and watching the beautiful performance of the short winter sunset. The sun finished its "performance" in 27 minutes, covered itself with a blanket of clouds, and gave the stage to the moon.
I approached the bookshelf and took out "Selected Poetry". The smell of dust, antiquity, knowledge, and mysteries made me pleasurably dizzy. I looked at the first verse written in fine print on the yellowed pages. The title was just one phrase. I read "Me and the Night".
"With pen in hand, I sit alone while night is burning,melting, pale.
The breeze that comes in from the window tells me theValley' fairy tale"
I opened the window a little to feel the poem better.
The earth tries to remove the veil the moon has thrownover her face.
The wind beneath my window sways with lilacs in aloose embrace.
"Oh, hell!" Where can I get lilac now!" I thought.
"Blue columns rise, then lean against the softness of
a dove-hued sky
As full of passion as I would these lines with rhymesto glorify."
I didn't have any passion either.
I was greatly moved by the genius of the poem and Galaktion, although I could not fully feel it, the lines reached deep into the soul and found the echo of the silver strings in it...
My soul and body no longer asked me to change.
YOU ARE READING
Hold My Hand
General FictionThe novel, titled "Hold My Hand" tells the story of a 14-year-old girl from Tbilisi, (Georgia) Mary, whose life changes radically when a new student, Gabriel, is added to her class, who has completely lost his sight due to a severe disease. Despite...
