Apple's syrup. A grey morning in a day of holiday. A parcel and a leaf of rosemary upon the windowsill. A passenger stops in front of my bush of pink roses. He looks around and he steals a blossom. Goodbye to a lazybone and to a dearest one! Apple's syrup and a token of compassion. It is a morning in a day of grey.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem