A wolf was howling in the wood,
His voice was calling me.
In dark garden that night I stood
Under an old wise tree.
I was walking in the grass,
And it licked my bare feet.
The stars were falling fast,
And I felt so complete.
The summer rain was falling down,
And I was trying to catch its drops.
The fog covered the land as a gown,
That moment I felt as if I regained my hopes.
Then my tortured soul stopped crying.
And how I dreamed it was calmed forever
By the silent landscape there lying,
Burning in me the passionate fever.
Fever
© Copyright: Демон Осени, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107101801800
Свидетельство о публикации №107101801800
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