My most Dear Unknown (44)

Words forgotten to be said.


Around of you is people,
Who study more or less
Yours minor brother's life,
Even the world's troubles.

Your powerful brothers,
Seem strong participants:
Only in money-games,
Not in the life's problem.

They don't know money's price,
For unlucky, hungry naked people.
Only the price of luxury.
For that, they are indifferent.

Your minor brothers,
On theirs earths,
Have only a single right:
That one, to be buried.

No richness of theirs earth,
Are for a better house.
Or roads or for theirs health
Or for theirs own soul's gifts.

Your desperate, prolonged cry,
Now in the last minutes,
Maybe awake tyrants, to know:
That theirs dark season, is over.

I don't like waste of pure blood,
Or whatever aggressions,
I like the words' value,
And the friendship's power.

SUN-TWIN


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