понеделник, 21 януари 2013 г.

* * *

The winter spreads her frozen hands,
to reach where once my heart's been.
Summer never lingers in these lands
and cold and dark is all I've seen.

My sister is the palest moon,
my brother is the blackest crow,
no path will ever take me home
to where the fires glow.

Once I had a dream to be
the wisest man of all.
I let the night consume me
and drag me to her lonely hall.

I've lost the warmth of hand,
the joy of sound and art.
Alas, to have the brightest mind
you get a hollow heart.

Велико Търново

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