“Vaya con Dios!” – days are puffed and rush is lost,
the Angel Death effaces distance to the shoulders.
Existence changes clothing, body’s frees its host.
The Heaven opens Gates, and knowledge turns to boulders.

Without a soul – it’s just few bones and rotten flesh.
No pleasure fits and sits in lastly-opened-caskets.
With blinks of life long-lived-illusions are enmeshed
in tangled labyrinths of brain. We are like mascots

for others, who will draw another circled lines,
commemorating stoppages to guzzle fresh ideas.
Sip to the last… this blood, believed to be a wine.
Spread over body-bread your pain - “Vaya con Dios!”

2 July 2007

Copyright ©2007 Iouri Lazirko