A pretty piece of human flesh
Is smiling from below
But I have got some heavy trash.
And what if I will blow
The childish tender scull with piece
Of iron in my hand?
In beauty hair the metal’ll seize
And sink into the tent
That will be reddening in cracks,
The small egg with the brains.
Her direct eyes will fall on neck
By me as Roland bane.
But why the girl I really like
And take compassion on?
There must be no for fancy dikes,
Don’t want my frankness gone.
Night before 05/19/2011
***
© Copyright: Кирилл Галабурда, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111060206844
Свидетельство о публикации №111060206844
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