I hear the bell - there is spring in the field
You have cracked the cheerful windows
And day chuckled and sank, as you watched alone
Filaments of the white-pinkish clouds.
Laugh have passed by the face but vanished and ceased
What have gone by and what did embarrass?
I go away to the turning pink wood
You'll forget me as you have forgiven.
I hear the bell
© Copyright: Марианна Шихарбеева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600155
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600155
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