Tuesday, December 30, 2014

on love

Yalyna’s Night Walk

“Your soul is as a moonlit landscape fair,
Peopled with maskers delicate and dim,
That play on lutes and dance and have an air
Of being sad in their fantastic trim.”
(Paul Verlaine. Clair de Lune)

“Tonight, at yours, there are the masks that you invited
and the black masks that you did not invite.”
(Lara Biyuts)

It was cold last night, and I felt lonely, taking the air in my home town. Now, it was time to go home. The way home took me only twenty minutes, but for some reason I decided to drop in the White Jibber Bar to have a cup of tea. Sitting at a table, immersed in thoughts of my own, I suddenly heard somebody call me. I turned round and there… dear me… a handsome man who I saw never before. Watching me the man smiled in the way that gave me the creeps. I tried to scan him, just in case, if by chance he was a kind of a magician too. Oops… I couldn’t see any bio-field. Then I showed him my nice bare teeth -- thanks heaven, my fangs were not cut in my childhood -- and I winked at him. What came next? When going home, I felt like under a spell, and I heard some footsteps behind. Every time I turned round, nobody was there. Now, at home, coming to the kitchen, I heard the transcendental call again. So pleasant. Ah, I ought to come up to his table. What a lovely adventure it could be! If it went wrong, never mind, for really, nothing to lose.

The End

Lara Biyuts © 2007