I'm reading evening gazette
And see in there only doom,
The awful things without end...
Who stirred up this nasty spume?
I wouldn't see deceitful rave,
And hatred with unknown goal.
I'll better find a little cave,
And living there, save my soul.
I need no chantry for the pray,
And middlemen between my God.
I don't take part in dirty play,
The heft of cross is my support.
Credo
© Copyright: Павел Сандовин, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116110508030
Свидетельство о публикации №116110508030
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