The Writers Voice
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|If you find a way to the old ruins,
Stop, tired hiker, and direct your glance
To the remains of the past owners’ wealth.
They can still delight and hold your breath
Though the stone walls seem to be deserted.
They forgot their brightest period
When a rich king needed a secret place -
A well-hidden, and cozy, and nice space
To meet a young beauty – this king’s great love.
The closest neighborhood was very tough:
Wild, thick forests with big game and robbers,
With witches, and night ghosts, and big monsters.
The rich king crossed the drawbridge every night
To leave chambers and the girl at twilight,
The deep moat protected his young lover
Against a wild bear or a robber.
But the time was cruel and merciless
Even for such a beautiful goddess;
King’s late visits were rare and rare,
Only night monsters still gave a scare.
This fruit became not forbidden enough -
The girl was left finally - o, poor love!
The king lost his heart in another place.
You may see, hiker, the mysterious space…
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