The crow screamed in haste.
Their shadows flitted across the doe.
Sometimes you can see them having a boring rest.
Ah, how do they disturb a psychedelic place?
The brown silence exists in its own scope,
Like a woman trapped by deep worries,
Sometimes you can hear them scolding.
A rotting corpse stinks somewhere.
Their flight suddenly turned north,
They disappeared like a funeral procession.
Carved in the trembling wind of desire. Under the starry sky, a lonely person
Through the silence of midnight.
The boy woke up, lost in his dream,
His gray face sank in the moonlight.
In front of the rigid window with grille
A stupid woman with long hair cried.
Couples float in awe on the pond,
Floating on a pleasant journey.
The murderer smiled pale in the wine;
The fear of death infected the patient.
Nude wounded nun in the savior's
Pray before extreme pain.
Mother sighed softly in her sleep.
A child with completely sincere eyes.
Gaze at the night calmly.
Laughter rang out from the brothel.
In the pub below, the victim
A white hand is by the oil lamp.
Draw silent eyes on the wall.
The sleeper is still whispering. What disappears is the gold of the years.
Brown and blue at dusk:
The shepherd's soft flute tube disappeared.
Brown and blue at dusk
What disappeared was the gold of the day. Sunflowers sparkle along the fence,
The patient sat quietly in the sun.
The singing woman is echoing.
Monastery bells toil on the earth.
The bird tells you that it is echoing.
The distant news of the monastery bell.
There was a faint violin sound in the yard.
Today they squeeze brown grape juice.
Then there are happy and gentle men.
Today they squeezed brown grape juice.
The victim's bedroom was open.
Blurred by the sun. Bats scream at night arrival.
Two dark horses jumped over the pasture.
The red maple rustles.
The traveler peeped into the bar on the road.
The newly brewed wine and nuts taste sweet.
Wonderful: drunk, stumbling in the dark forest.
The death knell resounded through the black branches;
Dew fell on the eyes. Third draft
Blue shadow. Ah, your black eyes
Look at me while skating.
Guitar sound decomposes in brown lye.
Autumn is accompanied gently in the garden.
Fairy hands are ready to die.
Black and wrinkled lips suck.
Red breasts, in black lye
Sunlight, young, damp curls, slipping. Melancholy, you always come back,
Ah, the tenderness of a lonely soul.
The golden day is coming to an end.
The patient endured the pain humbly,
Strengthen the crazy tone of harmony and gentleness.
Look! Darkness has come.
The night is back, a mortal is sad.
Suffering with another mortal.
Trembling under the autumn stars
The first year bends deeper and deeper. Man is placed in front of the abyss of fire,
Drums, the dark knight's forehead,
Through the footsteps of blood fog; Black weapon collision,
A night of despair and sadness:
Here is Eve's shadow, hunting and red coins.
Light penetrates the clouds, a sacred dinner.
There is gentle silence in bread and wine,
Twelve people are all equipped,
They scream in their sleep under the olive tree at night;
St Thomas's hand touched the wound. There is no breath of movement. The face of an animal
Blue is stiff and sacred.
What is great is the silence in the stone.
The mask of the night bird. Tap three times.
Ring into a bite. Eli. Your face
Form a curve silently on the blue water.
Ah, you are still the mirror of truth.
The ivory tower of the lonely
Reflect the brilliance of falling angels. To Ludwig von feiker.
The darkness in the dense green branches.
The flowers in the blue mountains are suspended in loneliness.
On his face, his golden steps
Withered under the olive tree.
Night vibrates intoxicating wings.
Bleeding meekly and tenderly,
Dewdrops fell slowly from the thorns.
Sympathy of radiant arms
Embrace a broken heart. At dusk, when stepping on the dark road,
Our pessimistic image is faintly visible.
When you're scared,
We drank the white water in the pond,
Remember the little sweetness of sad childhood.
Dead, we rest in the old bushes,
Staring at the gray seagulls.
Swing away the clouds in spring and cover the gloomy city,
The noble age of monks forced it to be a silent city.
When I hold your soft hand,
You gently open your big round eyes,
How far is it!
Fortunately, when the dark nature visits the soul,
You become a pure white person and appear in a friend's autumn scenery.