His lips melt in a kind of a smirk
That would flatter even the crowned
As he picks with the tip of his fork
Of my "love you" the trembling sound
And declares that it tastes divine
With the tease in his honey-sweet eyes.
And my shame as another line
On his bill they will itemize.
***
ÃÓÁÛ ÏËÀÂß Â ÒÀÊÎÉ ÓÕÌÛËÊÅ,
×ÒÎ ÍÀ ÇÀÂÈÑÒÜ È ÊÎÐÎËÞ,
ÎÍ ÍÀÊÎËÅÒ ÍÀ ÊÎÍ×ÈÊ ÂÈËÊÈ
ÌÎÅ ÒÐÅÏÅÒÍÎÅ "ËÞÁËÞ".
È Ñ ËÓÊÀÂÑÒÂÎÌ Â ÌÅÄÎÂÎÌ ÂÇÎÐÅ
ÂÊÓÑ ÁÎÆÅÑÒÂÅÍÍÛÌ ÍÀÐÅ×ÅÒ.
È ÃÐÀÔÓ Î ÌÎÅÌ ÏÎÇÎÐÅ
ÅÌÓ ÒÎÆÅ ÇÀÏÈØÓÒ Â Ñ×ÅÒ.