just a sonnet

[kaplya_vetra]

[Finita la...]                  Finita la...

Be only true, the sharpened verbal blade.
Let only time has rights to put this point
for every growing through rhymed lines' joints,
Be only true, my sole sharpened blade.

All our words are merely a pond
for our thoughts that will become too tame.
But the same thoughts might have lot other names
and they will have revived in other ponds.

Another life will bring a different game.
But any pain has been a solely pain
and any lie will mix all our paints
when the new life begins the different game...

So everything will pass like any shade.
Be only true, my sole sharpened blade.



If you found any mistake in the text, please, help me to correct it.