The Lady
Don’t ask about sombre silent picture
My consciousness has all being faded
By trembling love and ardour mixture
The sun don’t rise above the mount
Yet misty clouds obscure the dawn
Each creature waits all of the count
Your entrance in white-snow gown
I pick among some thousand words
Into bouquet you love the only ones
Which have been sung by rare birds
On their fascinating slow pair dance
With larks, we warble heaven song
In exact rhythm your graceful pace
Each stone blossoms colour strong
In all the corners of enchanting place
In all the corners of enchanting space
Свидетельство о публикации №107011300067
i read 2 times/really i like
Елена Кораблёва 20.04.2007 16:52 Заявить о нарушении
Елена Кораблёва 23.04.2007 11:05 Заявить о нарушении