I still remember when she died,
I was thirteen, mature but childish.
Her death was such a painful loss,
The first one in the list of losses.
Her voice - oh what a tender voice...
It chains the heart to every sound
To follow it, to cry and smile,
To be dissolved in the pleasure.
She pass'd away; all songs are old,
No new one, never ever after.
And modern pop, increasing noise,
Has shadowed the older beauty.
Yet, in a while her songs appear,
Just as before: exciting sound -
Transparent, pure, crystal gift,
Although the songs are outdated.
I'm frozen still: oh what a joy...
And thought: "she's dead" - oh what a sorrow...
Anna German
© Copyright: Валерия Ливина, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107102800449
Свидетельство о публикации №107102800449
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