When lines of borders
will have disappeared...
We won't have
blood anymore
The best thoughts
will be a world's culture...
And white boun of
barbarism will
simple in ash.
Our history can't be
an anecdote
The thousands bowls
were drank...
They were a poets...
One way or another..
Our horizon is melting
To sacred strings
feeling...
With my lips to the
source...
First we have forgotten
It is mean
We will have found...
Someday..
Because the Iliad
has your own eyes...
Ket Gun
31.03.11
The Iliad has your own eyes...
© Copyright: Цурикова Екатерина, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111040206366
Свидетельство о публикации №111040206366
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