You are my letter, sweet, not crumple.
Until the end of his, friend, read.
Tired of me to be a stranger,
Being a stranger in your way.
Do not look so, do not frown angrily,
I loved, I'm your.
NOT cowgirl, no princess
And it is not a nun I -
This gray, workaday dress,
On the worn heels ...
But, like before, embrace is burning,
The same fear in the eyes of the vast.
You are my letter, sweet, not crumple,
Do not weep for the cherished lie,
You it in your poor knapsack
At the bottom lay.