My Love
My love is tired of me.
It has been that way for a long time,
helped by me, too swiftly....
I spilled too many tears,
I fell down too often.
I was only ill and unlucky person,
I had too many questions.
But it desired rest and joy,
sitting untroubled near a cheerful fire
and watching TV in the evening.
My love is tired of me,
and the grief of centuries
squeezes my shoulders.
Copyright © Dina Televitskaya | Year Posted 2007
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