οh, it was beautiful I guess, in the old times my saloon seashore, heart-ache and spirits tucked away in my heart with my dream. And every day when evening came sitting by the cask the bard with his lute with the wine in his being in his yearning love song embroidering that world there. And Stavros over there in the corner who for two dark cherry lips quietly drinks he takes water as he sings while the lute of the bard extinguishes the pain. And Miris begins to dance only the ground has an enemy golden palaces in some wide sea he remembers, red fires his two eyes. I remember every dawn when I wished the sun would not rise in your embrace dreams, boats with sails strolling through creation with your kisses. Slow my heaviness, and heavy maybe it was not real your love for me I ask passersby in the narrow streets if they have seen chestnut-colored eyes like yours. How can I justify a life and a star in the morning which trembles as it goes out in the saloon which has fallen into ruin an old dream of mine has remained.
Posted on: Fri, 26 Dec 2014 22:40:18 +0000