Посв. Татьяне Домбровской

What portrait? What gestures?
What color of eyes? What breast?
What woman on us throws the look.
Well and verses simply an emerald.

Adjust souls and a smell of a rose.
I am excited with that aroma.
That morning of mimosa,
I would present it(her) though time.

But a pain of separations
And a distance of road
Us rzluchaet the whole world
I can not see her(it)
Us only NET will connect.


Рецензии
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