Twilight Aureole

Lips are twisted with a grimace of boredom,

All the waves of rushes are crashed on rocks,

There was left only a taste: infinity and emptiness

Though a bitter glass of luxury is drunk completely.

At night, when hard, unbearable darkness

Like shaggy black dog walks around the bed,

In the embraces there are only one woman - the loneliness

In the tattered hotel of broken soul.

She whispers and torments with a rattles of colours,

Prostitutes and demons, bloody ghosts

And seductive majos in witch style of goya;

And he, having lifted a sight from under gloomy forehead,

Dived into the eternal vortex of human unrests

To create bouquets with flowers of nightmarish evil.