The day in the sky, superstitious like night
Doesn't know - is he day, is he night?
And the face of the evening maid
Is goldish with shadow vague.
But the fisherman hasn't yet woken
Drowsy streams with the sweep of a scull
And the fiery kisses of hers
Make me feel that the night hasn't gone.
Gentle breeze breathes our faces...
If you can then blow out the bonfire!
In the lunatic nights please blow out
Flared up living coal of the soul!
The day in the sky
© Copyright: Марианна Шихарбеева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600165
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600165
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