Turn gaze up to the skies,
It may be caught by sight
Of bared teeth of the moon,
Devouring haze of night.
Its blood is trickling down
The vault of heaven, crown
Of dying sun and drawn,
Dissolving far and wide,
To ocean’s bosom bright.
(2001)
Sunset
© Copyright: Талвир, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107060100036
Свидетельство о публикации №107060100036
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