poems back artist cataloque

An old musician playing here.
A vagabond
But not a fool.
Imagine also this...
The shabby instrument he's holding tight-
Old Lady Fiddle
Decades of years wiser than a man.
And also please...
A candle's burning eye.
A tavern.
Some drunkards hoarselu crying.
A stray cat's game.
A deep soul pain.
Hey,yawnin, are you?
Look here, I bet you would enjoy.
No tavern - just the fleeting world.
No night - goddamn melancholy.
No candle burning - this is hope.
No vagabond, no poor musician there -
The choice of Heaven, of the spacious land.
No fiddle in his hands - the virgin dawn,
So light it is, it's just like breathing of a child,
And yet not a string to break the dark -
The theard of sun, the death of night.

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