She cannot bear these lonely nights of truth,
When your succulent breath not drunk,
The deep blue nowhere of your eyes not swam,
The tender dark and warm, your words not heard,
Approaches the icy windowsill and sees:
The tired light reflection of her emptiness.
No sound, no, not whipped, nor sobbed -
This night she feels the heavy beat of hope.
"Re-a-li-ty" - the name for this, reality, not dream.
Be strong, don't let the cry come out from your lips,
So white like snow, because together pressed,
Which covers quiet streets where you once met.
Mainz, 29 June 2006
Heavy
© Copyright: Зимцерла, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106071301797
Свидетельство о публикации №106071301797
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