Nightingales and childish tales
Endless poems and summer gales
Vanity enraged in though
Even time can't kill what yearned
Relentlessly for all it sought
Gordian knots and minstrel dreams
Insight lost in gold-blue beams
Vaned complexion in bluish eyes
Eternal struggle condemns all lies
Under clouds that sail the blue
Pleading cries come streaming through
Lethe, not caring where it flows
Arrests the passion that fully knows
Sweetling's rapture and idle days
Succumbed by pain and mourning ways
In dreams the dumb sing gentle rhymes
Even speak of better times…
.
.
.
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Vruuće...
Trebao bi spavati, al ne mogu.
[shrugs]
Oh, well.