My Boy
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The clouds become more thick, forests - transparent.
And Autumn cuts, shreds in days the nights.
By whom are you today drunk, my boy, merry?
and are you still attracted by the lights
noisy, smoky pubs in the streets around,
where in toxic vapors it is more easy to die?
With whom did you, my boy, yesterday morning, woke up?
Whom did you say some nonsense when said goodbye?
Bu şiiri puanla
Henüz puan verilmemiş