Tuck soul in shawl of poetry, and let it become warm.
It's August now, September's close, and heavy fills the sun.
The clouds crawl across the sky, like through my own love,
The color of your eyes so blue, that no more power I have.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Liza, ten or eleven, more more numbers and poems, thanks