«Your road passes through clouds…»

Ольга ПАШКЕВИЧ | Поэзия



Your road passes through clouds.
I’m stuck to the earth as if with glue.
I don’t know your way in the sky.
I can’t walk in the sky with you.

There’s nothing there in the sky
That can remind you about me.
We met each other too late.
How can it be? How can it be?

I have no answer to the question.
I live waiting for your phone call.
And my lines about you will stay
Not in my notebook, but in my soul.


I live in the world I created,
Where the spring reigns in gardens,
Where my beloved man is living
In the cozy small apartment.

He calls me by phone in the evenings
And says me, “My sweet, my beauty.”
He thinks about me constantly.
I’m sure he loves me truly.

But in the real world, winter reigns,
All my hopes are thrown aside,
And I mean so little to him
That he wouldn’t notice if I died.


I am growing up from “no” to “yes.”
I am growing up from “yes” to “no.”
Am I growing up and emitting light?
Am I growing up and melting like snow?

I am sure others know better than me
How much wiser or not I’ve become,
How much better or worse I can be,
How I must finish things I’ve begun.

I can accept your advices or not…
But I prefer to drink from my cup.
Don’t be offended at me, dear friends.
Don’t get me wrong, I am growing up!

About the author:

Olga Pashkevich is a poet and fiction writer. She graduated from the Irkutsk State Pedagogical Institute. She is PhD in Pedagogic sciences, a member of the Writers’ Union of Russia, an Honored Worker of Culture of the Republic of Sakha (Yakutia). She lives in the city of Yakutsk.

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