A window is more than just an opening in a wall; it's the boundary between the personal and the universal, between the warmth of home and the cold of the outside world. Its glass reflects our dreams, worries, and fleeting moods. It becomes a silent witness to our lives, observing the changing seasons and how we ourselves change. Light penetrates through it, bringing hope, and the wind brings news from distant lands. These poems are an attempt to capture the fleeting beauty and multifaceted nature of this ordinary yet so important object.<\/p>\n
\nThe morning mist froze in the glass, and the city slowly awoke from its slumber. A beam of light burst forth, like an arrow, and silence filled the room.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nAutumn Etude<\/h2>\n
\nFall leaves dance outside the windows, in crimson and golden beauty. And it seems time has no power here, only memories in the dew. The rain whispers tales, softly and lightly, of summer gone by, of warm days. And a longing echoes in the heart, for the light that melted into the clouds. The window is like a frame for a living painting, where autumn paints its final touches. And this sadness has its own reason, a premonition of winter's coming hardships.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nCity behind glass<\/h2>\n
\nIn the distance, lights like a scattering of pearls, And the noise of cars fading into the distance. The window holds the silence of centuries, And alienation, and the steel of sorrow. Through the veil of rain and streetlights, I see life's fast, strange course. And each house, like a museum, Keeps its secrets and its shore. The window is my telescope into an alien world, Where joy and sorrow walk hand in hand. And in this bustle, so deserted, I search for meaning, as if in a dark circle. And although life rages outside the windows, In my window there is only a quiet, weak light. I search for my thread in this world, And I believe that I will find it, believe me.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nWinter window<\/h2>\n
\nFrost on the glass is the seal of winter, and the world outside is frozen in ice. Snowflakes swirl slowly in the silence, whispering a fairy tale to the winter garden.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nEvening silence<\/h2>\n
\nPeace deepens outside the windows, and long shadows fall upon the houses. The day is passing, taking with it all the thoughts that troubled me. In the window opposite is a bright silhouette, and it seems as if someone is waiting for me. But this is only a deception, an empty greeting, and the silence that reigns here, ringing. The window is like a mirror of my soul, reflecting sadness. But in this silence I am in no hurry, and wait for my sadness to come.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nReflection<\/h2>\n
\nMy face trembles in the glass, And it seems I'm looking into another world. Everything is frozen in my eyes, like a ring, And in my heart there's a quiet, barely audible feast. I see myself in the reflection, But it's only a deception, an empty shadow. And in this bustle, amidst the fire, I seek the truth, every day. The window is like a portal to another existence, Where everything is possible, where there are no boundaries. And in this world, full of magic, I find peace and a glimmer of light. But I only have to touch the glass with my hand, And the world disappears, like smoke in the night. And I will be alone again, And I will wait for the rays to come.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nRain behind the glass<\/h2>\n
\nAutumn rain taps on the glass, and the world outside turns gray. It whispers tales, quiet and simple, about the past summer, about the warm ether.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nNight Watch<\/h2>\n
\nIt's dark outside, only the stars peer into the distance, And the moonlight paints shadows on the wall. The window is like a guard that doesn't sleep at night, And guards my peace in my sleep. It sees everything that happens out there, In a world where darkness and silence reign. And it seems that it knows everything about us, And guards our secrets like wine. The window is my friend, my faithful companion, In hours when I am alone and quiet. It gives me hope and peace, And helps me survive this moment.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nLight in the distance<\/h2>\n
\nA light burns in the window opposite, And it seems that someone is waiting for me. But it is only a random person, And in this darkness there is only silence.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nDust on the glass<\/h2>\n
\nThere's dust on the glass, like a memory of years past, of days that inexorable time has carried away. It holds joy and a secret, and echoes of long-held aspirations. I run my hand through this dust, and recall everything that happened to me. And it seems I can float away, into a world of dreams and fantasies, into another world. The window is like a time machine, transporting me to the past. And in this nostalgia, in the silence, I find peace and a feeling of light. But one has only to open the window and breathe in, and the world will return to its shores. And I will understand that I must live, love, and believe in what awaits me always.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nSpring wind<\/h2>\n
\nA fresh breeze blew through the window, bringing with it the scent of blossoming flowers. It awakened me from long winter dreams and brought hope for warmth.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nConversation with the Rain<\/h2>\n
\nIt's pouring outside, and the drops speak of sadness, of love, of eternal longing. They draw a pattern on the glass, and whisper tales in the twilight. I listen to their quiet conversation, and my heart echoes with sadness. But this sadness has its own beauty, and this silence has its own moral. The window is like a frame for the rain and tears, for all the emotions that live inside me. And I am ready to accept any question, and answer it in silence. But as soon as the rain stops, the sun will peek out from behind the clouds. And I will understand that I must live, love, and believe in what awaits me always.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\nEmptiness behind the glass<\/h2>\n
\nOutside the windows there is only emptiness and darkness, And the wind howls like a beast in the night. And it seems that life has passed, And nothing remains ahead.\n<\/pre>\n<\/p><\/div>\n<\/div>","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"A window is more than just an opening in a wall; it's the boundary between the personal and the universal, between the warmth of home and the cold of the outside world. Its glass reflects\u2026<\/p>","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[59],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-134763","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-stihi"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134763","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=134763"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134763\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":137579,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/134763\/revisions\/137579"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=134763"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=134763"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/imgist.ru\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=134763"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}