Любовь в мечтах моих сияет...
Как ночь над городом моим,
Но образ в мыслях исчезает,
Лучами светлыми раним.
ted plumed crests.
A tree of light in space, a narrow mast
sang out, with no dawn, no seed to use,
and my lament that learned to calm and soothe,
hung coronets of hope above the nests.
Sweet, distant voice that I so longed to hear.
I tasted sweet and distant voice, a glow
that could so quickly come and disappear.
Voice distant, pine forest, wounded deer;
sweet voice, a quiet fall of sobbing snow,
caught in the marrow, far away and near.
Свидетельство о публикации №103013100045