Читать книгу В районах малых городов - Егор Акулов - Страница 50

My dear, I’m really lonely,

I can’t understand your neglect.

I’m slave of amorousness only,

Who wanted your life to protect.

Nowdays we’re living without

Tenderness, care and love,

But I’m a poet and go through out

Your soul to praise you enough.

My honey, I’m really injured

With your understanding of life.

You think that I’m ill-natured,

That I’m as sharp as a knife.

I love you, my beautiful lady,

I’m pleased with your being in sum.

You сrashed and destroyed my shady,

My worried and sensitive heart.