fear, in the darkness of sorting things,
Moonbeam suggests ax.
Behind the wall is heard the sound of ominous –
What's that, rats, a ghost or a thief?
In the sweltering kitchen splashing water,
Shaky floorboards through leads,
With a glossy black beard
Outside the window, attic flashes –
And calm down. As he was angry and agile,
Matches hid and blew out the candle.
It would be better pobleskivane blew
In my chest aimed rifles,
It is better to be on the green area
Lie down on the pavement unpainted
And under the clique of joy and groans
Red blood expire before the end of.
Hug cross smooth:
Christ, the world my faithful soul!
The smell of decay unconscious sweet
It emanates from the cool sheets.