The night
Falls from the sky like
A wall made of silk,
Our flight
Is about to be to be so easy,
The twinkling stars
Touch upon the endless
Cloud number nine,
And constellations sever
Under the light divine.
You can't be further,
Can't be closer,
Can't be younger than now,
We play a game of dual solitude,
With our silence renowned,
And stillness of the autumn air
Saves us from boredom and despair.
Our flight
Is about to be so easy,
The twinkling stars
Fall into crystal rivers,
We've never been so happy from afar...
© Maryna Tchianova
An original poetic/sung poetry work based on one of the key tracks by Sarah Brightman
Sarah Brightman - Fleurs du Mal
© Copyright: Марина Чиянова, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121101705049
Свидетельство о публикации №121101705049
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