Month

I asked the Moon,

When the Sun is vysmálo me

Pointing to him their injuries

Which are without healing.

 

You and I, we were sure

They said it so many times

That it was just a avantýra

What the next morning blurs

 

I asked the Moon

If you want me

He said that it is not in the habit of

To deal with this theme

 

I have nothing to say

How do You make them laugh again

As always I see only the worst

And beautiful my pain nekonejší

 

I asked the Moon

Why happiness is me avoiding

He said that sky has no pride

But that I should have it.

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