Anna SafA

Russian Federation

Published Work

The last summer eve is in July

"The last summer eve is in July",
I thought, sitting on the sill
next to the open window,
when the cool breeze
hastily kissed me in my lips
with strawberry lipstick
and I licked autumn flavor
from dear beloved's touch
It's barely bitter
There're tastes of the wet soil,
wet eyes, silver grass,
fresheness of cold fingers
and an empty dark space around,
what people usually fill
by cinnamon, lemons, cocoa, 
wool sweaters with moth powder,

The summer lates for 2 months
August is already a hostage of the fall
Though, it's still considered as sunny time,
for me it's a periphery,
a gradient between
singing swallows,
unevenly tanned bodies, fug
and golden coins on trees,
frost, fog, the permeating,
brash, choppy wind
Also, it has one day inside,
which is mine
I hate summers,
but I like my birth month 
- August
Now I, half-summer, half-fall,
can understand the reasons

Why I always have so many birthmarks,

Dear voices

I don't hear voices
after another fierce fight
between us
They've splashed out
on white pages,
as blue ocean waves
on melted sand
with the color 
of creme brulee
in the form of
blue ink lines,
what are made
from my own salty blood
and what are flowing 
inside my veines
There is pacified emptiness
in mind
I always hope,
it will be just for some time 
I always pray
for their return,
bringing marvelous madness
with them
as a good company
and killing
one minute hush
I'm scared,
when they are silent
Is it the end already?
I don't wanna die
without hubbub
of dear thoughts
This song,
what was the symbol 
of my birth,
should be perfomed
as the symbol
of my death

With swallows' chirr

With swallows' chirr my inner world
is shedding, riving, crushing,
but, I know, the rosewater elixir
from drops of sorrow and suffering
will mercifully nourish my injuries
and make the soul burst into blossom
(One day)