You changed a cup with patterns of your spring For tea that got to be deluted with a fog. But taste is not just sharing a minute With fogey time that's checked in every drop. A thirsty and the sad - two sounds of door's bell To come to drawing room with broken draw of flowers. The colors of not yours possess just shades of bowl With mirrors on the floor and smile and white ruff... Plutarhos had not aim to register the fact. Among his fifty lives - not one life that's exact. But power unconstrained leads aim to be educed To get one's own from fluke...front figure of one's cruise.