tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post2578286804507081973..comments2024-02-20T06:21:03.607+02:00Comments on някъде над покривите на града: Не е поезияРадосвета Аврамова (caribiana)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13165932150494540765noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post-3810813498963133982022-11-09T18:03:25.807+02:002022-11-09T18:03:25.807+02:00It's no poetry
I’m sitting and writing how in ...It's no poetry<br />I’m sitting and writing how in the sky<br />Fiery-hearted dragons are born<br />How the last rainy smiles come out and shine<br />Through those sleepy clouds, though feeling alone<br /><br />How it happens at once – green, violet, quiet<br />And then it comes - a timid dusk light<br />How his gently lips are touching mine<br />Because I’m the sister of Her Majesty Night<br /><br />I’m simply retelling a summer sunset<br />Above a quite random faraway seaside land<br />But my words are breathing and are hot, burning red<br />creating rhymed lines, in a way I don’t understand…<br /><br />:))<br />Много ми хареса като звучене и като оригинал, който да направя на език, различен от български. Благодаря !yanbibiyanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11981988288342513238noreply@blogger.com