Saint Petersburg - the city of the Dead,
Where dreaming spirits haunt the mist-cloaked streets.
A diadem of rubies crowns your head,
And silver armour lines your mighty fleet.
Let myriads of angels guard your spires
Against the pain and suffering of war:
Rejoice, the bygone northernmost empire,
Built on deception, cruelty, and gore!
The Winter Palace flaunts its azure gown -
A ballerina on the frozen lake,
Whose beauty flares, as if about to drown
Beneath the burden of her last mistake.
May a luxuriant, wild garden grow
Where once was land of misery and snow.
Hello, lovely stranger! My name is Veronika Sizova, and I am currently studying in Canada.
Since early childhood, I have been mesmerized by the literary art. The words – exquisite, intricately intertwined, sophisticated, magnificently powerful and fragile simultaneously, – remind me of the oceanic waves, and poetry hides in their unfathomable depths.
This place is meant to become a sanctuary for the tortured souls, aflame with a passion for literature.
View all posts by Veronica