With Pouting Lips - Poem by Liza Sud
Again with pouting lips you go away,
My darling, as the country of old days,
And pass your finger all along my back,
So that I thought of you when making love!
But I know, you'll come back again in spring - as
A farmer returns to his own field,
And we'll enjoy our new freedom,
Love for each other, you, in fact - it's me.
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