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White
I sail on the white paths of paper
I net the butterflies made of wishes
And I bring them to you
She will with him
With whole my body I feel I love
Even though I know that love hurts
I make a record in it
She will with him
Sorrow, everybody knows
Dying is easy
It hurts for a moment
And stops
Sorrow, but how
To live like this
When her hurt is becoming of stone
dorkas✕
Hozzászólások
Oroszország gyalázatos háborút folytat Ukrajna ellen. Állj ki Ukrajnával!
A fordítóról
