They call it Mediterranean and naked they play dark eyed children, bitter statues it gave birth to the gods, Christ himself summer is not afraid of weather there, in the Mediterranean Blood tampered centuries there the rocks and the headlands and the deep silence islands like pigeons, eternal prisons summer is not afraid of rains there, in the Mediterranean Valleys and olives get lost in fire hands stay lonely and the bodies empty nations of despair and the bitterness of death summer does not lose its wings there, in the Mediterranean Here in that lake I was born too Mediterranean of fear and bitter times dreams that played in deep waters and became lonely trees in dry islands in the Mediterranean Heavy clouds hide the Parthenon In Spain the word liberty is lost but if Athens still is a bitter dream summer is not afraid of weather there in the Mediterranean.
Posted on: Mon, 24 Nov 2014 21:06:08 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015