I will tell you today my kind,
My occasional, my tiny friend.
How I was just like snows
And cold daughter of snowstorms.
I’ll tell how a curse was set on
And how to you through hundred years
I was knocking in winter dress.
To meet, with you, the dawn.
And to melt with first sun ray…
At the spring don’t cry for me.
A memory in you I will become,
The memory of my cold love .
Snow girl by O. Zlotnikova
© Copyright: Максим Брашко, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109032608220
Свидетельство о публикации №109032608220
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