tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post6817318087846291456..comments2024-02-20T06:21:03.607+02:00Comments on някъде над покривите на града: За студените есенни вечери...Радосвета Аврамова (caribiana)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13165932150494540765noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post-627508522079554692009-10-18T16:38:42.157+03:002009-10-18T16:38:42.157+03:00Ами...хубаво е:))
Защото и на мене винаги ми е усм...Ами...хубаво е:))<br />Защото и на мене винаги ми е усмихнато. Дори и когато съм тъжна.Радосвета Аврамова (caribiana)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13165932150494540765noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post-31524374364958805692009-10-18T14:24:12.153+03:002009-10-18T14:24:12.153+03:00Когато чета стиховете ти, дори и да са тъжни, вина...Когато чета стиховете ти, дори и да са тъжни, винаги ме обзема едно топло чувство и лекичко се усмихвам. В тях наистина има някакво вълшебство. Може би това е душата ти. Всъщност Тя е. :))Anita765 (Ани Монева)https://www.blogger.com/profile/09478623679089197222noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post-23488387054468683772009-10-18T00:48:40.488+03:002009-10-18T00:48:40.488+03:00Благодаря, Ян :)Благодаря, Ян :)Радосвета Аврамова (caribiana)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13165932150494540765noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2984806401118681918.post-88690512376043851502009-10-16T19:39:16.964+03:002009-10-16T19:39:16.964+03:00About the cold autumn evenings...
Along the rain ...About the cold autumn evenings...<br /><br />Along the rain pipes the autumn is running <br />very sluggishly , She's lost her voice<br />the Sun had a short-circuit - so stunning<br />that It all got burned down -with no choice<br /><br />There's no sunset on top of that range<br />and the sky's full of smoke - dull and gray<br />and the wind's trying to rearrange<br />all the panting white fogs in a way<br /><br />It is quiet . It is awfully quiet<br />A sad autumn above the sad town<br />wet branches write some lines in violet<br />about a tired leaf-fall with no sound<br /><br />I sit by the window and my tender breath<br />makes the cold glass in front of me blurred<br />in the very small circle that my lips have left<br />a drawing of warm heart will soon occur.yanbibiyanhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11981988288342513238noreply@blogger.com