Daughter Of The Sorcerer Poem by Monarchist Oleg

I confess dear beloved
Not because it's truth nor is it lies but because it's sincere.
These starry nights from calm days
That you lied in my soul and cried in my palms
The noon you lay on my bare breast and dreamt of our matrimony
Or the mockery I took, for you to hide
Confide then this to me
Does your heart ache for the morning
When we see our raw faces, without the screens.
When we touch our flesh without thought
When our matrimony is no dream
Does your heart ache for me
Daughter of the Sorcerer