When all the waters from the Flood of Noah
Returned to marge, then, quietly and fast,
Love came to shore. It rose from the foam
Of torrent disappearing in the past
And vanished in the air before the term,
Which was for long: the God’s Mills have no hast.
And weirdoes that never come to end
Inhale with open chest that magic blend.
They wait for no reward or tribulation
They think: it’s breathing, nothing more or less.
But suddenly they feel a resonation
With bumpy breathing of somebody else.
Yet the feeling, like a newly-launched ship
Needs to know the ocean long and deep
Till the day you finally perceive
“Love” is same as “breath” and same as “live”!
Numerous will be wanders and adventures,
For Love Land truly is the greatest land.
Its’ knights will go through rigorous probations,
And more severe will grow the demand:
Required will be distance, separations,
Deprive of rest and sleep will its’ command.