You think that I made it well,
When did not choose one's red- roses fall,
They loudly sing too and will laugh on the morning.........
But their aroma is a medicine for dream and the fan dreaming..
I was afraid that... I can waken to its Excellency the Moon with beam stack
So has chosen a colourless pink roses, as to boring colourless lipstick..........
Roses really are a medicine to be used for dreaming Tsira - - - lovely warm poem and 10 + + from Fay....xx
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
When they fall, perhaps stack is rearrangement of the beam moons pink thinly veiled in see through smile..iip