Cry, my violine, like a nightingale.
Cry, though your song is in vain.
Nothing could lull my grief and pain
Even the moon that is silent and pale
Cry, my violine in the dark -
My silver fetters are singing along
Forgetting about a ruthless thong,
About the stake, that's so sharp.
Cry, my violine, cry with me!
Cry about the one who is dead.
My life disappeared like a cloud shred
I've no fangs, I am quiet and meek.
Cry, my violine, for the last of vampires
Cry, you're the last who dares.
Violine and the Last
© Copyright: Виктор Морант, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112081607475
Свидетельство о публикации №112081607475
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