The path is choked up with weeds forever.
The nights are dark, without stars.
Only a violin plays somewhere
And nothing more, no words with us...
I've visited countries with different people
And met you not here - not in this place.
My feeling's infinite - the flight of the eagle,
The song of the nightingale - sweet and immense...
Elegy
© Copyright: Виолетта Сакович, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112022811795
Свидетельство о публикации №112022811795
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