The Jazz music, she and me

Original, Armenian Version is Here

It is difficult to notice in the passing crowd weather this one has a dreamy character or that maid understands that “autumn has taken its place in my table with withered roses”.

Jazz music sounds slowly. The crowd is multicolored like this music. From the wide-open window of the cafe I tried to estimate the crowds mood; people are unfamiliar for me.

 -This is moods dilapidation, it will pass, – whispers in my ears my delightful lover and her stable sight press in my face.

 I understand her; she will soon become a mother. We are the crowd and this Jazz music.

From outside somebody pays attention to us. In her eyes I see my reflection. I am really happy. But again dilapidation, again self-suffering everywhere exists this contradictory atmosphere which filed my mind. The time is in a hurry; it deluges the surroundings and mixed the current.

– I love you, – I whisper.

Are her eyes shining, or not? But I feel she wants to say the same thing to me, it will be more usual. For avoiding the repetition, she left her thoughts for another occasion. My sayings made me feel delightful.

I picture the world by her, and she became so small, so soft that I feel myself almighty, then I kiss her in my thoughts and offer her not willingly smile.

It seems to me that the essence of the Universe is She- she, her maternity and this Jazz music.

 

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