...autumn blues | final version

translator:  Jarosław Pasztuła

translated poem: jesienny blues -  Jarosław Pasztuła
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looks in the windows
late at night like a dog
through the body of the cold night
frost paints the glass

I hold red whiskey in my hand
soaked in tobacco
I'm letting go of the circles
the smoke dissolves into the ether

the needle slowly glides over the old record
the last leaves in the vase

fire fighting in the fireplace
warm to the feet
they walked far
perceptible distance

the smell of the room
in the light of the Indian salon
among the palms the candle dies out

poets don't write poems
they left here
pen paper left
empty glass

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