Salander Blym, zadumki Finally, I Don’t Give Up

The streetlamps cough up light like broken honey,
And every shadow’s got a passport torn.
The winter gnaws its arithmetic of pennies—
But I’m still warm, still warm.


O, little death, you bureaucrat of endings,
You file my dreams in alphabetical dust.
But look—my breath still fogs your windowpanes,
Still fogs, still fogs.


Finally, I don’t give up!
Let the sirens eat their sirens,
Let the clocks all drown in wine.
I’m the stone that sings in rivers,
I’m the thorn that bends the line.


The metro’s veins hum Byzantine anthems,
Each turnstile clicks like a Judas kiss.
They auctioned off the sky in numbered fragments—
But I stole this, stole this.


"They told me love’s a bankrupt city,
Said my voice was counterfeit.
Then why do sparrows stitch my name
In the dawn’s black ledger?"

Finally, I don’t give up!
Let the judges melt their gavels,
Let the maps all bleed to dawn.
I’m the nail that splits the scaffold,
I’m the song the bullet owns.


The night’s a drunk accountant—
It stumbles through its sums.
But my heart’s a crooked sunflower,
Still counting, still coming, still… hum.