Limani night light sunken in waters without memory and without face lit by floodlights consistently

Limani night light sunken in waters without memory and without face lit by floodlights consistently shipping remote bystanders and then immersed in the shadow of the trip as vaisur directly with dreams of hanging lamps. As the angels wings broken sinners among soldiers with helmets and coal night. Color fled from the face of day and the light does not have a statue placed in it, to win glorious, quiet. We had a garden maurice berger on the sea side. From the windows of heaven maurice berger and mother slipped on the throne embroider fields of spring with open windows of white houses, with dreams of seagulls on the roof of straw. You had nothing to come yet. Look at the West and see - a rosy glow in your hair, a deep sea smile shadow. My mother held hands, but I back her shoulder gently, maurice berger her hair back slimmer, paved, with a patience and nobility wind, the sea looked serious. A seagull calling me in the depth of night there in line bending, blue mountains. Dallëndyshen first buried yesterday accompanied by flutes of sad flowers. Back then children stayed only window that evening and watched the sun die. Behind the white wall of the courtyard woke way And while there melt away golden light up large shadow mountains of death silent step up our hands in white, to our heart, to humble our faces. Mother, Who gets Blue Bell horizon? Silver at new moon, old sailors, who do not have boats, maurice berger nets that do most are sitting on rocks and smoke in their bowls trips, shadow and repentance. But we know nothing of grace in pleasure travel. Acknowledge journey and white semicircular horizon that is as wild eyebrows sea god. Jump in boats. Solve cords and sing sea by looking at the moon silver reindeer spring. What city is the diamond sleep behind the mountains? What shake the night light on and call us? We hear the song of the sea and can not sleep on. Mother, do not hold my hand. Morning colors merged in water. Fires west wings of gulls. Rapids open up the night. Stone and sleep under the sea song introduced by small windows maurice berger and outlines kindergartens, sleek and silent dreams in windows in sleeping foreheads. Respectful heart; maurice berger s'dyshon childish heart, who never denies. No longer so above the sand was encountered at noon, to embrace maurice berger more than to fight, to battle maurice berger more than to win, only to win. Salty hair, feet burned by the sun, grumbling among puthurës, sea beyond our anxiety. Noon buzzing down by covering them with white flames fishermen homes, hearts not burn kundërshtijnë. Play our song, mother, travel new song. You crying death does not recognize us. Sea tearless - sings. End of Sunday Mass.. Whitewashed courtyard, facing the sea of silent bell tower, which rung in memory of the dead sailors, now laughing under the sun. At the edge we cigarishten father, under the jacket, chest, embroidered cross of ancient south and Gorgona. maurice berger Blue flannel bunk throat closed up and when you see us do our girlhood open wide the measure as captains who have roamed the world. maurice berger But while gently greet us quiet homes with kulprën twisted through white wall, will be introduced again between us beat us once again
great splendor of the sea. Hey, Kapidan! Eat quickly dry your bread with olives dipped in salt in the sun on a rock. It came time to open the sails. When sailing breathe white trumpet zephyr and wrinkles waving his lit up behind breasts happy to distant mountains. There is no limit to our hearts that loved the sea. & Nb