Сны времени

У окна.mp3

Вселенная.mp3

Псарю небесный .mp3

Побег.mp3

Scream of Tower 

The sun melts on the sandy slopes,  
A scorching wind parches my face.  
In lacquered shoes and pantaloons,  
Trimmed with lace,  
And a ill-fitted doublet, I tread  
Through swirling storms of sand ahead.  
A shadowed spire looms in the haze—  
The ancient Tower of Silence waits.  

Death whispers from the ancient *dakhma*,  
A sage serpent slumbers at its gate.  
Nowhere else will you find such purity—  
So many stripped to bone, laid bare by fate.  
Here jackals feast on flesh’s last refrain,  
Where end turns back to start again.  
I offer myself, a sacrifice, to climb  
The Tower of Silence one final time.  

Brick and clay exhale decay,  
Through centuries, a priest’s cold face appears.  
No trace of life’s dull toil survives  
In the cracks of time etched deep by years.  
His frigid gaze will pierce my core,  
And I’ll lie free ’neath skies once more.  
My wanderings cease, my journey done  
Within the Tower’s walls, where light is none.  

The doomed sky fades to black,  
The world dissolves like frames in film.  
Parables, myths, and fables blur—  
Old truths unravel, frayed and dim.  
Only the one who sinks to the well’s dark bed  
Will laugh last, as the cosmos bled.  
All my life, I’ve closed the gap  
To the sacred Tower, this final trap.  

Night’s black dome crowns the desert plain,  
A crescent moon ascends upright.  
In unblinking eyes, frozen still—  
The silver gleam of dying light.  
Dawn’s rays will melt the anchorite’s shade,  
His heavy soul to ether frayed.  
I’ll scream into death’s sweet nirvana,  
From the Tower of Silence—toward Nirvana.  

---  

*Notes:*  

- *Dakhma*: A Zoroastrian "Tower of Silence," where bodies are exposed to the elements.  
- The poem blends existential themes with allusions to asceticism and cyclical time.

У окна.mp3

Prozorov