World’s Made of the Glass by Valeria Yatskevich

World’s made of  the glass

You told me that you leave me.
I turned to the window avoiding looking at your face,
Because I didn`t want to see your indifference
When you finished your phrase.
The view was like Devil`s blessed:
Dark clouds hid the dawn,
Strict mountains looked merciless,
It did not care about the ghost of my love.
Its peaks were as sharp as your words,
But it could not hurt selfish clouds.
So the sun put down its sword,
But the arrows that came from your mouth
Didn`t need the light to hit my heart.
I hardly saw how the fog slowly covered the valley,
Where were little houses with its little yards
And the old castle with collapsed bailey.
Bent trees guarded the road.
There were poor light from the lanterns.
Someone — maybe, fool, maybe, bold —
Was walking the road to the mountains.
I wanted to be a thunderstorm,
But windless weather was cruel and calm.
I loathed the nature: it understood wrong
Worried beating of my heart.
I thought, “How I want to be dew on the grass!
Not to feel, not to think any more!
And will this world, which made of the cursed glass,
Break down when you leave and close the door?”