my white room

i never saw a moor—
i never saw the sea—
yet know i how the heather looks
and what a billow be.



рядом с каждый домом, где мы жили был лес.
и сейчас он рядом. нет травы, листьев зеленых.
только хвоя, стволы, солнце иногда выходит и 
прошлогодние листья. мелкий дождь, потом 
сильный град, крупный, как в детстве, когда 
в блюдце собирала его.

if i new many languages and wanted to write the same things, 
there will be many stories and none of them look alike

so it was sprinkle rain taday, rainfall and hail
crashing on my cloths, so cold and heavy

feeling myself these days  like this,

pale greenish grey peel and inside 
summer bright blinding bright

pumpkin soup with leaks, cream,
and the bowl from the shop i like
so much coming there every year
vyšehrad, prague. it was made by
by disabled people, calm and friendly
place where they pack your goods
slowly in floral craft paper.


  1. dear Olga,

    what a beauty that pumpkin!
    and I would love that green house
    but how?
    can you e-mail me the details?


  2. when i scrolled the page down and saw the first photo of pumpkin skin,
    i thought it was a ball made of pale colored wool.
    the mixture of colors are so beautiful
    that i haven't noticed yet.
    thank you, olga.

  3. Mmmm pumpkin soup. They are such a sunny happy color inside.


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