You don’t love me and you aren’t regretting
Ain’t I lovely? May be not enough?
You aren’t looking at my face but melting.
I am not too gentle, not too rough.
And you put your hands onto my shoulders.
You are young with passionate smile.
How many others you had fondled?
How much of them you keep in mind.
And I know that they passed like shadows
And for them your fire didn’t shine.
You had seat on knees of lots of favors
But you now seat yourself on mine.
And let your eyes now are half-closed
And you think of someone else instead.
After all I didn’t gift my soul –
It has been officially dead.
Айседоре Дункан
© Copyright: Дмитрий Данилов, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101052400349
Свидетельство о публикации №101052400349
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