Atklāju sev Suns of Arqa.
The Window
Now why do you stand by the window
Abandoned to beaty and pride
The thorn of the night in your bosom
The spear of the age in your side?
Lost in the rages of fragrance
Lost in the rags of remorse
Lost in the waves of the sickness
That loosens the high silver nerves
(L.Cohen)
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