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Bieszczady Mountains 2012

October 15, 2012

 


Million words how million stars
it to hot head pushes
Bright guitar instead of moon rose
It seems, that there is no today
It is only today
Do not god, Lord Our, extracts here
Hotels lux and spa, glass houses
Because go to here from Krupowki locust
And it will pass, trample on pulp
This Bieszczad, last paradise on the ground
Where I hear my thoughts
Where silence lasts

 

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