Oh my bitter Matilda!
Sad songs of yours that you sing -
of your greenhouse as prison,
love here impossibe is!
what will sing favorite Richard?
how will write it for you?
if only never were teared
threads of two love solitudes!
As to each other without touching -
we on the strings of the soul -
will go ahead, always trying
that the light inside was lost.
Oh my bitter Matilda!
© Copyright: Елизавета Судьина, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114110711329
Свидетельство о публикации №114110711329
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