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My thoughts — a crooked fast lane,
And you are like a torch,
Our worlds are scattered vastly,
Our silence is a church.
How dare you — out of envy —
Not see my burning heart?
I’m lurking through the shadows,
Moonlight’s state-of-the art.
*This is not a translation, but rather a creative transfiguration of the undertones of this verse you’ve created.
I wish you to be on top of the first or even premiere league among the other authors! Keep it up, dear author!
Based on a poem «Мыслей букет» by Tatyana Shveryova
