Thy grief brings pain
Into my heart.
Like autumn rain
My soul weeps hard.
The foulest thoughts
Are in my mind.
Bright gentle day
Does not seem kind.
And so, I plead
To you, my love,
Forget your sorrow,
Soar like dove.
Let Glory place
Her reeve on you,
And watch your wish
Becoming true.
Grief s Exile
© Copyright: Basantsov Robert, 2003
Свидетельство о публикации №103051000005
Свидетельство о публикации №103051000005
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