The night beckons, it is already close: The color of an ink stain, Stars blaze sparks Sometimes the moon is visible: Now like a dish, now in an arc Either to the left or to the right This night we will passionately Kiss again on Skype. A chain of air kisses, Digitized by the net, Will fly over the ocean: Either to the right or to the left The night beckons with an invisible secret tired bodies, until the morning, subordinating them until dawn to the power of sleep, if passion suddenly boiled ... but then it is another matter ...
