from Kundalini

Seven silent notes split in flight,
Each color got a note –
One-two-three, one-two-three, one... -
The voice breaks as flageolets,
Black and white-phantom vendetta,
Gas winds over the precipice, -

Does not float away like a raft in the looking glass,
Not appeased happiness jackals,
Writhing crust of ice,
The saws screeching, cresting zhaleyka,
Old sleepers narrow-gauge railway,
Beats bulls bridge.

Undercut curls, like seam to cuff,
Not like music is over – summer,
So the water is cold,
Touch – loud and the air is viscous,
Drowning in the river headband,
Again – and for the bottom,

Two - and like a fish the bottom dances,
Three-blue on a bend waving,
Time to disappear completely,
And there are not notes, but splashes,
Smells like resin or moss in the woods.,
One-two-three, one-two-three, seven...

Disclaimer: I just found these in my library. I do not have the rights to them,
I just them and decided to share them with you.