And here is the promised poem:
Persian miniature
When I finally finish
Game of cache-cache with the death of gloomy,
That would make me Creator
Persian miniature.
And the sky, like turquoise,
And the Prince, who had raised barely
Almond eyes
At takeoff girlish swing.
With the spear bloody Shah,
The aspirant path incorrect
At vermilion heights
For departing sulfuric.
And not a dream or in reality
Unprecedented tuberose,
And a sweet night in the grass
Already sloping vines.
And on the reverse side,
As clouds of Tibet clean
Wearing it is gratifying to me
Icon of a great artist.
Fragrant old man
Negotsiant or the court,
Looking me fall in love instantly
Love acute and persistent.
His monotonous days
I will be a guiding Star,
Wine lovers and friends
I replaced one by one.
And when I satisfied,
No ecstasy, without suffering,
The old dream of mine
Waking everywhere adoration.
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