Читать книгу Unquenchable thirst of love… - Михаил Годов - Страница 21

Things have their cost, it's known

In dollars, euros, cheques and cash.

Thing have become so wiery, monotone,

The ghost of lucre is turning all to ash

I guess that is no place for bargain,

Where hate and envy're mixed with greed.

For me such life is very small and tangled

I'm used to other count, another creed.

And casting off the profits of transaction

Which boil in one's soul and blood

I never buy the fame or admiration,

My Lord, such fate can be the true attraction:

To pay for love with coins of affection!