My solitude in silence only beauty...
At four a.m. the singing nightingale,
My little hope, my lifefull sunfull cuty,
What point of yours, you'll diy soon in this jail.
You, tiny soul, so trembling and so melting,
Along the rays with rising ancient God,
Your life so short in hands of darkness nighting,
But what we be if you would sing us not...
;;;;;;;
Nightingale
© Copyright: Безгоду Неделя, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126041502590
Свидетельство о публикации №126041502590
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