The trees were hidden by a mysterious shadow
And they press on the heart with aching anguish.
The objects were wrapped in a ghostly sloth,
Noisy leaf fall, a fall fraught.
I stare at the Park in silence,
He is gloomy today and his appearance is bitter.
The arch is seen as a night silhouette,
Behind her is the dawn of the fleeing night.
Coy-where the restless bird will fly by,
Gusty wind ripples the top.
Sculptures, distorted grey face
As if whispering: - He hears us, hears...
I try to hold back my tears.
In the soul has accumulated, but do I need a lot?
Blurred by the slime of evening birch
Rustled quietly: - We are waiting for you, dear...
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