In dead flowers realm, oh my dearest foe,
Icy streams through your fingers are always to flow
Running down my fingers drops of emerald dew
Deadly fiery water I'm drinkin' to you
Scarlet berries around, priceless meaningless gifts
It's too late, now my stars burn like tears from your lids
Woe betide me and you and this velvety ground
No return from the dusk of October... two thousand.
Чёрный октябрь
© Copyright: Александра Абанина, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112020511855
Свидетельство о публикации №112020511855
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