How I loved silk trees

How I loved silk trees ! All my life I loved these flowers insanely stupid call . Stupid , as is love - stupid . Love like many - many mimosa . Mimoza , hmmm , behold , my beloved flower , just outside a little sun , wear yellow dress comes in maiden and boulevard trees , which are reluctant to furnish the leaves and flowers .Their love will not know either high posts , neither for money , nor race , nor the social layer , but only certain heartbeat ; mimosa as some solar rays .Does not resemble in Mimosa Well , when fall in love ?Is not love so fragile , like the fragility of mimosa ?Oh , how times have I drunk of these beautiful silly !The van went down on that day Maradi before cinema " Partizan " I felt the way dikur.Nuk aspak.Në Pogradec , I stopped for a bit . Can not get away from Lake kthejllët as sad eye of a boy falling in love with Mimoza.Beside me was a mimosa . Had blown it all , as if it was covered with gold coins. It pains me a lot . Me , whenever I go home , I have an untold pain for everyone . One time I took my gold bracelet and I have put up an orphaned girl with yellow hair as of lulelimozash .I felt ... and I looked over . A friend of mine approached those moments my loneliness , called me by name . On very impressed and brought his eyes as something of mine expensive bags . It was a novel that spoke of a murder . Oh , I donate a novel that speaks of murder and , moreover , on the day of love ?I parted with the author Pogradeci Bardhyl Barber ; knew that , who knows when they will see each other again . But , from the way he smiled to myself, and wrote something on the memorial , I realized that it is better afforded me a tiny bit of his heart and it was near Mimosa . From what Mimosa standing over me , like a flock of beautiful love Pogradeci oval lake . One who , like Mimosa me this , who knows how sighs would love to have heard and hidden store .All the way I read the novel , which was pulling a lot - " Murder in St. Valentin " .The last novel I read my friend , and it seemed that the circuit minivan that collocations with fury , mountains and gorges were not half naked tree , but lake waters and mimosa ...And ... we arrived in Tirana .Everywhere - mimosa .Tirana had open arms for me waiting Mimosa me , a lifelong lover of them , as they are lush .Every time I look Mimoza love brings nostalgia parë.Në a large tree majestic , filled with mimosa , yellow rays and their fragrance , I tried first kiss . I had a mimosa clutch pad , when I tried the mystery of love , when I tasted moments of being princess .Tirana Centre buzzing from numerous people that moved , borijet car , bus uturitës engines , their brakes , even hingëllimën of any horse pulling the carriage, middle qyteti.Nuk pack that I was more than a week since I came home , and is wandering the boulevards of my capital , to enjoy everything that saw the encircling , the girlfriend , the shtrenjtën , fragrance - Motherland .I tried looking into everything , what had changed in a year .- A bunch mimosa , eighth , or want , - I heard a soft voice from behind childish . I looked over the front of me stood a boy , no more than 12 years . There were two batches beautiful mimosa in hand .