Poezja

It is pouring. 
You can feel, smell and touch 
the rain. A river of qualms― 
starts swelling. Watercress― 
will decide the fate of water. 
 
Do not consent to switch off 
the amplitude. You cannot drink the sky. 
 
Keeping the lexicon― of road map in order. 
 
The scope of communiqué 
expires, if you do not offer the apology 
for dousing the snow with 
conspiracy and setting it on fire. 
 
A daring attack takes place 
to avenge the insult of mountains.