Valery Kourinsky

Sun Sonnet

Not lived at all but spent a bit of life
as if the summer days on yellow beach
on tiny standstill of the inner speech,
on birdy island near a ducky dive

on warming ground of needy new survive
in every quarrel's minute, time of which
is dead from illness -- giant's rainy reach
that we in middle of us have and I've

so often thought is a gloomy helper
for young weak wills, when I was like a Kepler,
discovering the harmony of world

in every simple cluster of a dust
of invisible, thin and painy crust
that once upon a time the Love was called.