Somehow the strange monk came to our city
The black loose overall and his face was bitty
He told people, I know of what you dream
You will eternally live and your debts will be redeem
Bring a tub, fill with wine,
I will throw a potion from a stein
Drink till moon will change the sun
And on the morning will come eternal fun
The world forgot our small city,
Living in it cause only pity
Footfall of citizens whose term expired long ago,
Scurry about and look like ghosts
In the mornings streams of their going bodies
Hopelessness and despondency embody
By night the streets become deserted
By the windows fade newly ghosts converted
Hey people, I know of what you dream:
You will eternally live and your debts will be redeem.
Необычный монах
© Copyright: Чутки Валсинатс, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115062404402
Свидетельство о публикации №115062404402
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