I'm the Beast
looking at the East goal empower.
Well, what else?
I have a flower.
With a scarlet thread
that I threw through the ocean deep
I see she the poisoned
with an apple sleeps.
To remove the curse
we have to kiss each other at dawn.
Here she has to.
There only I kiss her.
It's a vicious circle:
the not guilties, we are imprisoned in illusions.
Do storytellers lie,
or is there a solution?
by S. Rygkovsky http: //stihi.ru/2012/06/06/4212
(translated from Russian)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem