Virgin skin and closed eyes
What she has been created for?
Sun is burning down the plants,
On the sand snakes are creeping
And the caravan of queer goods
Roams along by its way
Where the red sun is rising,
Where Sahara's sands turn white
Hiding the faces of wind, storm is getting up,
Challenge the people, misting their look.
Breaking the faceless howl and siren
The white and lonely cabins' thoughts
And in one of them today -
People celebrate the caravan's arrival.
Shadows melting on sand,
Where’s the end of the vale?
Beauty, dancing on Persia's rug,
Which is giving the ripe fruits?
Who gave You life, Vale of Sands?
Illusions appear before You
Why Your night is so cold?
Who’s hiding under cover?
ChaoSSound - Sahara
© Copyright: Мичик, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109042000701
Свидетельство о публикации №109042000701
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