Behind the woods and the mountaines
Behind the dusty wild roads
Behind the burial mounds
Under the foreign heavens you blossom...
And when the mountain turns white
And the dale dresses in vernal green
With the unearthly sorrow I recall
All my past as if the last night...
In the doleful dreams I see you
And try to wring with my hands
Your dear enchanting hand
And repeat the faraway name.
Behind the woods and the mountaines
© Copyright: Марианна Шихарбеева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600157
Свидетельство о публикации №107062600157
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