27 May 2019

The False Stories by Anastasia Fedchenko

When the book is written,
and the false stories are said,
I will forget the people who were, so honestly paid,
Paid for the luck, for success, for the love with tremendous power of mind
I forget every moment when you said that you lied
Lied to me, for me, for the sake of love.

But you love her.
Not me - the heroine of the novel,
but her - the heroine of the soul.

When the night comes quietly, and the chamber is closed
So the hare is  fox, so secretly laughing in hole.
The wolf becomes a bird, flying to the desired land,
Well, I'm like a pin, I was lost with a dish of hope.

Let the book be forgotten, and maybe not read in the age.
I will forget the name on the cover, and I'll forget this smell.
But I never forget how roses were dead

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