33Anton Semenov

There is shape in disbelief

In the premeditation of

A prehensile tongue

Relinquishing dissent

Without motivation

The future is lost


I have come to stand in

Opposition to every sage

Who dare illumine my path

Don’t let me find inside

The same infirmity

Don’t my heart sustain war

Lest I find within

A human greed


In the company of others

I find myself unforgivable

Let each man be a mirror

That no man should live

In dissimulation