Anastasia Gracheva
L’automne, c’est le bonheur qui s’envole
Par la fenêtre entrouverte,
Avec le brouillard qui embrume
Le verre ancien
Dans mon miroir rebelle
Mes cheveux s’étalaient,
Avec la craie dorée… de l’automne
Peignez mon visage !
Peindre les pensées du vent
En attendant la pluie,
Peins mes caresses
Au feu de l’automne
Le sourire dans ton regard – c’est moi
La sœur de l’automne se reflète dans tes yeux
C’est moi… Je viens à toi
Avec un ciel bleu et des tempêtes à côté.
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