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on the roof you have a fear of heights.
you are standing behind the chimney
and you are waiting for the struck fire
and you are rubbing as about wood
- with leg against the leg.
it is flat, and well because even.
when you will take all garments.
off from the cord, then you
can for oneself lie, and eat your
breakfast from the basket.
and to summon birds to crumbs,
and he, so beautifully will cover with
wings, and you will fly away,
where they are telling fairy tales.
not for everyone, about love. on the roof
you have a fear of heights and
he is already standing behind the chimney
with the spawn, it is today even.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem