by Alla Vilnyansky
- After “Spleen” by Charles Baudelaire
Love is easily seen from the balcony with the sad vision of a phantom.
I am looking for meaning in letters in the gallery of the last dance.
Cold wind battles against the sky Women gather to speak of the next day while nature rests, indifferently
The sky is crawling out of her skin. The night is young, but time goes quickly People are distracting me
I’ve gotten what I wanted and no longer want what I have.
