She is passing in a warm breeze bars of light that cross the floor one smoke-gray, curled, tiny feather skips aside
By her middle hang the keys made to open any door even the one that lets in the cold wind from outside
She lives in a house of colour guarded by cats three in number and one great dog of gentle manner in among the treesTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
