My charming boy! He can attract,
By means of an endless fair;
But if you tell him, he’ll reject,
More tender than severe.
The wind have passed down by the grief,
Mixed up with leaves and rain.
Where is my peace? I’ve met you, thief, –
There’s nothing but tmy pain.
To Thief
© Copyright: Людмила Дмитриевна Назарова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125012402010
Свидетельство о публикации №125012402010
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