Do not give me flowers more...
From which nostalgia begins.
Scent of my hairs...is
Fallen asleep in this flower
That flower was colour his eyes...
Carefree cloud flies so far...
Above the seventh heavens one's...
The birdie with the wings frozen...
Dreamt of the violet nest
But only in the own dream...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely piece Tsira, you have woven the words togehter so well, 10 Lynda xx