Do not raise the sun in the West and in the hot afternoon drinking dew. I loved the cranberries in sugar, and cherries in the chocolate you love. And the night is not gonna see a rainbow, and South sea do not know the ice. I know, in the sky fly the apples, but under the trees looking for always. I important write-wave eats and cut out the nonsense on the stone. A broken flute does not play, and the snow is again stored in the pocket. Again in the West, gets the sun But I see through the pink glass and dip the cranberries in chocolate. Svetlana Volga