The problem is not who is older.
Are you mine or... - not mine?
Who lived, and not once, but more than
Once - knows the games to find.
Soul, like a kaleidoscope,
Mixes the colors, paints.
I understand the lies of
Yours by my blood in veins.
This Voice is ancient, eternal.
No alternatives.
Not passion - careless, jolly.
It's like you die or you live.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem