2 июл. 2021 г., 01:23

Naiad XVI.VII.2019 

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River of poisonous gloom water cold
There ahead I behold in the bosom of eve -
Whispers of sorrow covered with mold,
Words never told and anticipations deceived.

 

lukewarm white hands and chill grin,
Teeth sharp and swift jab;
A struggle I know I can't win -
Just a small crimson stain in your lap.

 

The water is above my head, 
The lights are vanish fast;
I saw my body sinking dead,
I reach my harbor last.

 

Whispers of sorrow, covered with mold,
Words never told and anticipations deceived;
River of poisonous gloom water cold
There ahead I behold in the bosom of eve.

© Peter Wolf Все права защищены

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