If it was ice, I would have been with my frozen throat.
If it was a fire, I would be ash and everything around me, dark.
But you are a mixture of both.
You burn me.
You are immersed in the ocean of your melted ice, the green eyes.
I find you on the bottom of the bottles, but something in my throat is still bitter.
Everyone I call it with your name,
sometimes I whisper on your picture - hug me!
I still remember touching me and giving me the fire and the ice woven into a circle.
Why not a heart? Because it breaks, and the king is an eternal and endless path.
I tattooed a rose that symbolizes you.
Why not your name? Because you're not for people, you're just for me.
One, the one with the hairy prince.
The fire burns me again, and the ice tries to save me.
In my heart, I took a great place and there I hide from other people.
You will come to me, I do not fall to the level to pray.
I want you to wish him without force.
You are so, so hell, unreasonably beautiful.
Like the red rose, given to the girl by her beloved.
Having taken the first smoke after a scandal.
Beautiful as the sunrise over the sleeping sea.
And no less than the sunset seen from the snowy Rhodopi peak of the tearing white tears.
Surely it is a roar of love.
How many times do I tell you that I will not get a life to satisfy you?
I shout that I love you with all my heart.
And again I carry everything silently on the leaf with a thin feather.
Goodbye and Kisses ...
