How light adores her face of pure beauty,
How gentle is the colour of her skin,
Who, knowing her, would ever think of sin
so overwhelming, treacherous and sooty?
O Satan, you've obtained a precious booty
with little effort - what a fine win
of soul that seemed untroubled, strong, serene,
and your attempts looked like a senseless duty.
Oh, pain of my forever aching flesh,
my heart is burning and it must be cut,
while grieving world is covered in grey ash.
My angel, cry for me, I've turned to smut,
Was love's reward a soul destroying crash?
The sky is red, its hell consumed my blood.
How light adores her face
© Copyright: Борис Старосельский, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110011401937
Свидетельство о публикации №110011401937
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