The poetry of spring
Шрифт:
A Father Frost makes silvery trees
So was quickly today per night.
First hoar lied per night
On the Way to all fields.
But winter will not always
And We will meet.
The life nature faded now it.
It will rise at the right time quick.
The sky’s eternal Way is
Always leads us by the hand a week.
02.01.2010
The mountain’s man, once day,
Abandoned his cave
And went, to look the Way,
Where sway the flying breeze a move has.
Light spilt dark fetters within,
The lunar wintry coast,
That you’re maybe a lost.
Man, in loads cavil space
Forgot, with this, the griefs.
He went out in Stars World,
Which is very busy lot forgot?
The flying singly sounds
Where it is snowmen
Was warmed his around.
04.01.2010
Why creates the snowfall
Why does creates the June the snowfall?
Maybe does it the silvery moon’s flowers?
And maybe does it the cloud over the garden
Descends from the celestial heights.
And maybe does it of falling stars rain
Was scattered over the greenest fields?
The shine is of the flying silvery Snowman
Eclipsed the sparkle of every-days.
04.01.2010
The flower lover
The slope shrouded at the shaggy grass.
The water was riding white.
Into the heavy, nasty times,
In silence, I remember Your sight.
Do not to search me do You not.
I want to always be in the shade.
I’m, like the flower waterfall’s,
Which someone picked up to air.
16.01.2010
Some flowers are growing in the mountains, that bloom in summer and winter times. I’m sure, it is a lot of lonely dinosauro-prime, the them crowd, are going to the mine.
And I’m watching as tired waves, when you were listening the wind’s talk. I might have to look to your image again. I might have to together bird’s flocks’ mud.
16.01.2010
I watch the movement in the sky
I watch the movement in the sky. This is the storm blew to the face. A wind carries old centuries time forever, to the skies space.
Already a white snow did fall on the hills in the copse fluffy snows are on every branch and the light shine in every home.
16.01.2010
The grandmother
Only then colours are filled the day, when I see you – my Grandmother Anne.
When you’re with me, for all my Way, in the winter, flowers blooming a man.
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