To the Unborn
I often think of you. What would you be like. . .
Here you are sitting at the table in front of me. . . blonde hair to the shoulders. . .
You lowered down the eyes – you draw something. . . Your eyes will be like mine – gray. . . With rays, as She says. . .
She stands behind me and looks at you as well. . .
It was supposed to be like this. . . It won’t be like this. . . Never. . .
She always thinks of you, too. . . your mother. . . .
The one who was supposed to be your mother. . . My beloved. . .
We already know how it will be.
They’ll break in our house at night and beat me to death. . . Her. . . . . .
We try not to think about it. . . So the days pass. . .
It’s winter. . It’s cold. . .
We sit huddled together and wait. . . .
The thoughts of These hang around like a gray veil. . . . they can be seen these thoughts. . . .
At night, when she falls asleep on my chest, I can start thinking about you again. . .
What you should be. . . . . . .
You won’t be born here, but you must be born anyway. . . Let the other parents have you. .
But you will still be my son. . . The body is different. . . . . and the thoughts will be mine. . .
I know. . . . So it will be. . . . . . . . . . . .
She doesn’t think so. . . I can hear her thoughts, even though she hides them. . . . . .
Let it be so. . . . . It doesn’t matter how. . If only you would come. . . And They’re afraid of it. . .
That’s probably why they don’t come for so long. . . They are circling near the house. . .
Almost every day. . . They are afraid to approach the border. . . .
The border melts gradually. . . They’ll break through soon. . .
I have to tell you something important. . . The most important thing in my life. . .
And in yours. . .
If you’re ever be born. . . .
Don’t give up. . . . . . .
I would like to tell and explain a lot. . . But this way they’ll find you quickly. . . .
I’ll keep it simple – DON’T GIVE UP. . . .
You’ll understand when you are an adult. . .
You’re my son, aren’t you? . . . .