одного стихотворения:
"..It will destroy a precious growing vine
between its gray stone bricks."
It definitely will, if you forget
To hold the horses, that are young and strong.
They carry you, so swift, through silver rain,
Not noticing the flowers underneath
Their smashing hooves, that give birth to the sparks
When hit the cobblestone of olden road
Of ancient town that sits on ocean shore
Of the Atlantic waters of the North..
The precious gentle vine of growing LOVE.
На строки..
© Copyright: Примавера, 2010
Свидетельство о публикации №110112108477
Свидетельство о публикации №110112108477
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