Last night
I had a dream that
every living poet fell from the sky
and died;
every living poet
like a plastic soldier
with the face of Yesenin
and then I realised—
they were martyrs
for the soul
of mankind.

© Tom Del Braco

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s