On a table the slip lays,
Something like " I leave! ".
You do not look,
You do not cry,
You do not speak " I shall find! ".
To search for that is cunning
In it sense stayed,
Only, nobody has thought, that
Stayed will be all the same.
And the slip nothing will change in measured life.
Will come new, that will leave.
And again this jealousy, reproaches,
Much more easily slip on a table,
Than each day
To feel insult, that will leave.
And the slip lays
Also drops hot tears.
She so would like to him to do a favor,
And he sits such sad
On a shabby sofa.
He also will find, that left.
And the slip will be copied,
Only author has not taken into account that,
That to the reader
Will be all the same.
To someone all the same. английская версия
© Copyright: Sunny Fox, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102073100470
Свидетельство о публикации №102073100470
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