Her lips are blossoms...
Her eyes are smoke...
Oh, she has never broke'
A heart... It's nonsense...
Her youth is shocking,
I don't care I've never been in love this way,
My life is mocking
Me again...
And if I were a thoughtless child,
I'd be right like her hair, —
The splendid light is everywhere,
Just dreams left for one's mind...
She is a knot of fancy lines
On my tearing cord of life,
And if it’s ever made sense to live —
Just to breathe out to breathe in
The odour of her blossoms...
Her lips are blossoms...
© Copyright: Павел Олегов, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114082409219
Свидетельство о публикации №114082409219
Рецензии