Àêî çíàåõ ñ êàêâî ñå çàõâàùàì, íèêîãà íå áèõ ãî íàïðàâèë. Äæàê
...
The first what
I see is these eyes
The last that
I was searching
In such times
behind the windows
and moving walls
when comes
the penetrating sight
free of understanding
without pretention
where expectations
are part of history..
A silent glance
that trusts me forth
is the reflection
whitch explains the worth
and negates
the fences