The days of the sun are counted –
Three milliards of years in my hands…
It has been checked and over-crowded
To make us so “gentle” and so “bland”.
It throws us more brightness each day
And our strength is dying out…
With every single trembling of its’ ray
I see the death in peoples eyes…
I see the eyes of women, excluding thoughts
Of having children, playing in this sun…
I see the eyes of men, who make no court,
Who just possess the lust for fun…
And it’s impossible to realize
That our sun awaiting for suspense
To turn into a vapor – never rises
And fades away without the defense…
And it’s aware of the awful fact:
This world is not created for love…
The days of the sun are scripts to short-act
And we will it into surrender starve…
The Days of the Sun
© Copyright: Моя Любовь, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104102701038
Свидетельство о публикации №104102701038
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