I miss you, Myrdo, the enchanting goddess.
I miss the glittering Posillipo of all fires, which stands proudly on its head.
I miss your forehead full of the light of the East.
I miss the purple grapes that mingle with your golden hair.
In your glass, too, I drank myself intoxicated.
Your gaze flashed silently, full of smiles.
People see me praying at the feet of the god of wine.
For the Muse has made me a son of Greece.
I know why the volcano there has erupted again ......
Because you touched it yesterday with your dexterous feet.
The sky is suddenly covered with dust.
Since a Norman duke smashed your clay gods.
Under Virgil's laurel, the pale hydrangea
Always inseparable from the green Eros wood!
About the Creator
conant abram
I am a creative writer, in writing all kinds of horror stories, I like horror things
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