Isabel, as haven't written to you,
For long,
And as we have turned us into a story, like a Song,
For all to come to our home, and to sing,
Thought why not gift you a scene,
Painted true, by one great,
Ierene, should we call Her
A wonderous Painter,
Much like you,
Yes, a painted scene
See, how before us come,
As if you there going
To the garden of us,
Like a Colleda,
Sweet maid mine,
There I You doth see,
As drawn, so artistically,
You bending down,
Wearing a long gown,
Your hair, brown,
Tied , shining silky soft,
And the day , breaking out,
For us, la amore,
For us,
Real,
Canst You see,
How i ,by thy love, ceaseless, be,
How by thy wonderous glaze,
See, Canst you, Mon dio,
How i can even find,
Larila, quiet, coming to the town,
Napoli, our home,
Right at that porch,
Where we have kept
The torch
By Larila's bless,
Burning Bright.
(*Note: upon a painting, loosely based, done by Irina Vitalievna Karkabi, Courtesy: Musica Pittura e Dintorni.
Colleda: the Goddess of Love, Slavic,
Larila : the Goddess of the Energy, Sun GODDESS, )
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