The Pomorie Lighthouse in the Embrace of the Sunrise

On my quiet footsteps you are back. I open the gates of its southern tides. The sea is calm. And the wind is a priest on curls the blue excitement. And your voice again smell me mildly in a silver shell of sea shell. The storm passed. Good lighthouse is a watchman of our laughs. And the Wave Road ever to sunrise splashing our desires. I am - of white foam, born Aphrodite, and you are the fire of my little secret, which I wear in your chest.