Butterfly wings behind...
 Is it you, my soul,
 I came from a land where it's hot
 As repulsive as this winter,
 Which is not easy to escape,
 Because it's inside
 Burns out the inside with frost...
 Help me, soul, help me
 Hot wind (wing flapping).
 You and I will form a tandem.
 My body is just a game
 Clockwork. Grant me in return
 A picturesque, undisturbed garden,
 Inhabited by the muses dynasty,
 Exuding fragrance,
 A disturbing cluster of feelings...

Thanks you, very much.

Ольга Корнеева Корн   14.01.2020 14:07     Заявить о нарушении