The scent of the city

Smell of my breeze in the morning my town and washes it on a warm autumn day in his cups hungry rain is poured, and a rusty leaf tears collect. Chummers are beaches and chicken hens, but hungry claws curl wings and brings them into the wind, and spreads my city and proudly shining their lighthouse with an eye. They attacked the yellow branches, sigh and the boulevard whispers them, singing them in a tone and blended with the scent of the sea-thumping rumbling Burgas embraces us in its autumn manner.