Letters to Love. Long poem.

dedicated to Morena Baccarin

And now I open in the web
Among close lumps of lies and evils
The most endearing sonnet rill.
Nor young nor old, nor rude nor frill,
Immovable and on-the-way...
I'm frank for who in love enflaming;
I'm shut for who on th' Earth as whelk.
Elusive, I in books endemic,
At present-day – anew poeming,
As life ago, and two... So well,
You reading this. Do you remember
Me? (We've been reading, when we dwell,
Each other.) Yes, you'll know for ever,
Who writes all this for you. You will!

© Nemoybereg. 2003th year.

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In Russian

To beginning

Don't you really remember me?
Send me at least your mail-adress,
and I will explain who am I: nemoy-bereg@ya.ru