Evening Is Cold Evening Is Starry

Evening is cold evening is starry, Birches and pines have curved their necks, Pretty, I walk on the path without hurry Sickle of Pluto is bloody, what next! Wings became numb and he is really tireless, Time flies away like mysterious bird, I see no fear in this moment it’s priceless, Pretty, I’m breathing this evening, oh, Lord. Leaves almost fell in November’s desire, I will hide face – no one knows, who I am, Evening is good and I’m starting my fire, Knowing, that it won’t come back like a sham.