Daddy's News
T Tsira Gogeshvili
0
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My father sits on the garden bench-
Near to you, near on the river bank
He reads newspapers, are hottest, new...
Looks to the sky- coloured, as your blouse
so have grown old, so father's news...
He wished to repeat anew for me lullaby...
But dad started song - sweet swing as blues.
Madame, you have gone by obscure smiles,
Daddy whispers sad, miss.. bye- bye...miss...
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