The Poets Does Die So Very Easily

The Poets Does Die SoVery Easily I cannot tell convincingly, but i trust... The parrot- blue informed me, mine Lulu... That Here, these violet roses that has shined... Nearby a mirror - in crystal-vase, rustled... Angel blue-eyed Has brought from own dream... For mine infinite songs in dreams, have lasted... Sometimes some forget, that poets die so very easily, As birds die above heavens of caress of an azure Yes they both perish from insufficient of dream and love... But while the moon sings for me always a lovely lullaby I will not die so prosy - in loneliness, as in autumn a red roses Although never best time I do not see an angel nearby But infinitely I feel him white- wings rustles always...