5 marca 2015
CRACK OF DAWN`
The king
made a fun of our poverty.
Marble faced girls always thought,
wearing black scarves –
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum.
You made a death
a loving eternity.
We die daily
in the face of old shine.
Who shoots a peacock
on the tree?
I mourn for the blue peace,
let the clouds come.
Who remains unhurt
unpained, when the night calls?
I seize a moon
to enter the crack of dawn.
15 marca 2025
wiesiek
15 marca 2025
Yaro
15 marca 2025
Yaro
15 marca 2025
absynt
15 marca 2025
absynt
15 marca 2025
absynt
15 marca 2025
Marek Gajowniczek
15 marca 2025
Marek Jastrząb
15 marca 2025
sam53
15 marca 2025
dobrosław77