Ballad for Siberia

As I said, I write some times. Mostly something like poetry. I know, now it’s the end of  the summer (at least in my part of the Earth) and the thing you’ll read bellow was written around November or December 2010 (if I remember correctly). It’s sort of sad, so if you don’t like sad stuff, you may not like it. Long story short… well that’s it – enjoy :)

I stay on the porch

and glance at that snowy glass

of pure white vodka

and beg –

beg to all the gods

but mostly to the demons:

I beg you, you old Russian drink,

flow freely in my veins,

conquer them with your

white snowy strength,

cut them with your edges

of pure snowy sharpness

and make my heart freeze

– and find it’s peace at last

let the Russian bear roar

and stab its nails

of white curing sharpness

in my dying heart, already torn

some say hope dies at last

but you, oh, you

– beautiful glass of pure white vodka –

tear the hope out of my veins,

smash it with your frozen breath

and make my burning heart freeze

Author: meine kleine kunstgeschichte

I study Art History at the LMU Munich. I am interested in early Christian and Byzantine art and also in Islamic and Medieval art and architecture.

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