I forgot who is the author really and I lost original text. I wish someone could help me to find them. But here is the transaltion of this beautiful poem:
The sun is wearily setting,
Glass dew covered the grass,
Lottie her sleep is rejecting,
She is daydreaming, alas.
There — behind woven branches
Whose that unearthy precence?
Give that little plaisance."
Does he prophesies her a trouble?
"Those will find much struggle,
Shadow — from wing or from mantle?
"Remember you dreams of an angel?
Lottie I'm here, respond."
Toys are thrown in pillows,
Heavy door opens with creak.
Darkness is chasing her heels,
Only the prey will be taken,
Strong arms will help her escaping,
Lift to the clouds and up...
"Aren't the stars getting closer?
Lottie is laughing, "Oh, teacher,
Can't you lift higher a bit?"
Little Lottie's not scared
The angel won't do her bad.
"It was in yesterday's playing.
Your lonely time comes to end".
Yet in the midnight silence
Shiver touch skin so obscure
Although in soul it gets.
How many, until you will become an aldult
Will there be the same nights?
With no candles enlight...
And it's impossible not to
Listen to the voice that regins in the dark!
Devil himself would sell his soul
Gift, that seduces in jest!
But angels not couple with humans,
He is indifferent to prays.
Without compelling a rhyme,
Without leaving you grace.
Only the void of corridors will sigh bitterly after him
You will get your revenge soon and proper
You won't forgive him, nay...
Moment — and doors open widly,
The curtains from mirrows removed.
Turns into wounded beast.
Everything you asked before for,
Will cause the shivers of dread,
You have tested your power
It's unlikely you would remember the first, stupid love
(If only there were no nights, let his dominance be damned).
It is not about the weakness of body.
This secret is actually light:
Only with him, Little Lottie,
You were able to touch the stars...
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