« -: Юли 04, 2011, 08:32:14 am »
My love is poetry, my poetry is love
and it is fragile early in the morning,
when the cosy clouds are way above
and they refuse to heed the warning:
the quiet warning of impending rain -
just like the sky itself will spill a tear!
Then every single drop will try again
to kindly find and amputate the fear.
Активен
"Но аз, беднякът...
имам само своите мечти."
"Ще разстеля мечтите си пред твоите крака."
"Пристъпи нежно,...
защото стъпваш в моя блян."
