Читать книгу Christina - Egor Rybakov - Страница 3

Tell me angel, beloved, secret,

How often do you think of me at night?

And you stretch your soul, as if pushing the walls,

You call me to you in my disturbing dream.

Admit it angel, that has touched your soul I,

No one protected so tenderly and tenderly,

And you feel like an angel’s Paradise,

And, you know, will come to you of course inevitable.

After all, I also feel the warmth of my heart,

How infinitely appreciate, giving bliss,

And day after day I listen to the phone at night,

To observe the works of perfection.

Don’t worry honey, your love is forever,

My Princess is in my heart forever,

Will the sadness…the anxiety is fleeting,

I long was a precious ideal.