It is translations of Bulgarian song

Consolation prize by Ann Wood

I always get inappropriate - that's my talent!
Fortune still sends me the saddest of love.
It's a feast, but I'm not up to you, you have to be home!
Though I know that you think with me in my heart the pain screaming:
Do not go with married, loneliness with you to heal. They love you, they want you, but the holidays do not celebrate with you!
Do not go with married, though everything in them is suffering.
Do not go with married, do not be a comforting reward!
I always find myself inappropriate, I know that you are the same.
It hurts from this crazy love our heart, my heart!
Not that I blame you - I enjoy every moment with you, but I do not want what I feel!

Poetry by antoniya katelieva-wood The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 113 times
Written on 2017-10-05 at 18:35

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