Diamanda Elodia

Добрый день. Я пишу стихи с 11 лет, как на английском, так и на русском языках. Пробовала и прозу, но нашла себя именно в стихах. Надеюсь, вам будет интересно их прочесть, поскольку у меня богатый словарный запас и лирические темы. Люблю разных писателей и поэтов, от Гомера до Павича.

Мини-сборник стихов

1) I think I know what heaven is…

I think I’ll know what heaven is

When I see you

The glim of sunshine in your eyes

Like gems of dew

You’re like a silver shadow

Lost in morning mist

A shining diamond bracelet

Hanging on your wrist

You’re kind of fairytale

One’ll never want to end

A ghost of perfect dream,

A maid of Neverland

You’re a drop of water

In the sands of Time

You are a diamond in a crown

So sublime

You are a haze, a limpid

Angel out of reach

A net of voiceless words

I’ve always tried to preach…

You are a secret tale

The only teller knew,

You are a wonder of a song

Sung to just a few

You are a touch of silky veil

Upon one’s chest

An evanescent breath

Of life among the death

A sparkling stream of truth

Among the strangling lies

A blue-haired girl singing

Happily to the skies…


2) Hunt

In the house of dark, hidden from people’s eyes,

Lives a devilish beast in its earthly disguise.

There go horror tales all around, let it be;

For this sensitive creature of Darkness is me.

Once a girl came to me; she was lost in the woods.

Well, I helped her but wished I could have her for good

For – the witnesses are all the angels above –

When I saw her, I fell in the frenzy of love.

And she almost agreed but she wanted at least

To perceive the appearance of hidden beast.

I refused her at first but agreed then – oh, well…

And I came in the night as the creature of Hell.

And next morning I knew that she had run away

But I knew that dark woods would just lead her astray,

So I rushed after her to release and to save

‘Cause I had no desire to see her in grave…

It was sunny at first but then in came the night.

And I found the scent of that lady in white,

I have found the path where her feet dressed in lace

Left a bloody and daintily odorous trace.

And I ran and I rushed and I found her soon –

Like a swan, she was lit by a cold shiny moon,

To that time I was crazy and – hard was my lot! –

I have pressed my sharp fangs to that delicate throat.

When I came to my senses, the first thing I found

Was a sweet tattered body that lay on the ground.

Like a bird shot in flight she lay threadbare and spread,

And it struck like a knife when I knew she was dead.

I stood up and I cried and I laughed like a loon,

Tore the flesh on my chest, howled at silent moon…

I had dug a fresh grave, buried her but before

Took a piece of that blood-stained lace stocking from her.

When sometimes I get bored, melancholic and cold,

It reminds me of beautiful soul of old,

Then I sniff the sweet cloth – hold my feelings I can’t!

Oh my God, I repeat, what a beautiful hunt!


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