The Graves
Where are the trees, where are the graves.
Here is the peace and sky of clear,
But people they do not come here.
It is too dark and cold in graves;
Here lay the masters and the slaves,
Here lay the cowards and the braves,
But they’ve forgot about their graves.
Nobody knows when they have died,
None comes to them, and so they cry.
The grass has grown up everywhere,
But people they just do not care.
Свидетельство о публикации №106011500426