Streets - some solid elm. Fall suddenly over ... nightmare.
Are we not cry, unless someone is guilty, what did you go?
For someone tell me the brand holds the sidewalk, shining, like a piano?
Gruden comes early in the morning - we Mokos * smooths reality ...
I saw her for migraines what the hell outside,
Around the corner, a nightstand, behind the door - from breast and Mokos together.
Streets - some solid ulcers, not wait for snow, the city -
I leave unexpectedly, uninvited - the ring and you go nowhere ...
* Nature is stuck in the pending arrival of winter - the Slavs celebrate Mokos.
Women prepare for upcoming operations on winter evenings.
On the western fringes of Europe this holiday call Helouvin.