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I care. In lonely nights and cursed light of day
As acid sun grows dim cooled by declining year
Besieged by hosts of eyes how little I can say
I care
No pain on earth is able to give me such a scare
As one of seeing your face forever turned away
And spying bitter tears in your reproachful stare
I wait
In chains of icy moons and chilling autumn rain
Unable to wipe your fears or even just be there
What can I say aloud apart from dumb and plain
I care
As acid sun grows dim cooled by declining year
Besieged by hosts of eyes how little I can say
I care
No pain on earth is able to give me such a scare
As one of seeing your face forever turned away
And spying bitter tears in your reproachful stare
I wait
In chains of icy moons and chilling autumn rain
Unable to wipe your fears or even just be there
What can I say aloud apart from dumb and plain
I care
no subject
Date: 2006-12-06 03:36 am (UTC)Мне тоже когда-то нравилось писать стихи на английском. Но для меня всегда это были искусственно созданные стихи (я ведь не умею думать на английском и мир воспринимаю, как человек, мыслящий по-русски). Сам процесс напоминал собирание мозаики. Раньше это немножко развлекало, а сейчас почему-то не тянет.