Gypsy Song
Don’t touch her with your fingertips.
Don’t touch her with your thoughts.
My desire will burn you
In the minute when you will
And I will be burned with you.
Doesn’t turning us dust.
The wind is who already waiting for us...
The wind is who turning
This wagon in which
I kept my gypsy skirt
Dressed in freedom and joy
For to dance in your eyes only
With hands to the sky
Of our souls and dreams
And with lips who see
You are in flames
When touching her
But not touching me.
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