Jul 21, 2009, 8:07 AM

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  Poetry » Other
543 0 4

 

 

 

                                                             Бедствието ще прегърна.

                                                             Ще се стопи магията,

                                                             илюзията ще изчезне.

                                                             ... (без кръв като на смърт).

                                                             Бос ще тръгна по трънливата пътека

                                                             от звезди.

                                                             Луната ще докосна.

                                                             Очите ми ще пламнат,

                                                             сълза да не остане.

                                                             Океан мечти.

                                                             Късни слънчеви лъчи.

                                                             Препълни се земята.

© Атанас Ганев All rights reserved.

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