Guest
A TERRIBLE FORCE What is your beauty, your smile? Just a brief moment, Only the foam of the waves! When the soul is so ghostly and shaky Under the husk of imaginary norms. She′s always running around in temptations, She′s still hiding in the dark, And in vain lust He always wanders in a half-sleep. It is not alien to the fall - Any means are good: For the absurd goal of achieving I′m up to my ears in lies. And does not shy away at all, No environment of scoundrels (It all depends-it has how much), The mockery of fools. So what is your beauty, dove? A fixed idea? The soul absorbed dirt like a sponge, Salvation like a trifle, leaving it for later.
