Untitled Thy warm breath could’ve melted the iceberg itself And embraces of yours thaw stone hearts While in burgs are lurked from you men’s senses Thy charms are equaled to the mystery of art Rapt gaze sinks in the ábyss In front of thy dark wide-opened eyes About you one feels happy Or just viced blindfolded, unwise One can share with you whirling sadness In response you’d embrace for awhile Sipping wine with, making glad one The lady, who is called lovely “night”
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