Take you away from me,
From the magic land of torment,
Where the shine was born to be
And gloom was sowed to rip abdomens.
Birds love you, that's right -
They'll present their wings for you.
Go with them, and I'll fight
With the mirror on the flood.
The fog hugs me to grace,
But once the strange sounds brings the shaking
And if dead men start dance,
I'll close my eyes to seek awaking.
P.S. The epilogue to the song of my lovely ginger
2015
The Hero
© Copyright: Петр Станов, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115022607347
Свидетельство о публикации №115022607347
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