Gray fogs has fallen from the mountains,
The Fall's arrived to Paradise.
The smell from furs are thick like honey,
Uneasy whispers calms from pines.
And everything waits for somebody,
The fairy Sesame opens door.
And something new will be, my buddy,
That you would trust yourself no more.
The world will die away so willess
Just for a season or for doom.
There is the one immortal illness -
BOREDOM...
Gray fogs has fallen...
© Copyright: Юрий Розвадовский, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108010800465
Свидетельство о публикации №108010800465
Рецензии