MY CITY

MY CITY

My city know is great deal music
But me to sing is only one.
When i to be is melancolic
And golden park i'm go and go.
And, listening to his beauty ballad,
I forget abaut everything.
I do not need so nathing else
I think to wot i saving it.

Balm well speel onto in my soul
The old of castle silent haith.
At sheep in bay a suim tu him it,
My sadeness his is wistl sails
And Torgils Knutsson proud of posture
In Europe reproof is to look.
So any danger givs a rebuff
Discendans send to mute reproath

The holi Olaf cloister house
Disturbing winds of very fresh.
Their stronge to know is everibody
But has to spirit from a Piotr.
He himself a forget oblivion
And looks the distance over bord.
So brave of self to sacrifaising
Above so raised many face.

Beeside on round tower pavement
Echoes sleeping many times.
Born in the hard and hottest battle
It rashes at the hourses shoose.
To rain of working leisurelly
In back to streets without hidins
And in the parking leaf fall feering
In winter flashes hari up.

Well go and i to leasting town -
The noize of bay and sea gall cry.
Is not so very young my Vyborg.
But far from being an old man.
My sity brings me luck and happyness,
I praude is ceep for him to care.
I live wiht him and laugh and crying,
Its very very stronge him love…

2024 г.