One hurries up and doesn’t know
What season is the yard,
Spring, autumn, winter, rain or snow,
Life flows away, it’s hard.
Though years pass and make one wise
Time’s so implacable to prize,
It doesn't give another chance
And doesn’t prompt you in advance.
God’s present is the only earth,
Light window to the Universe,
But you are here only once
So train your heart to cast a glance,
And never mind your age, my friend,
But do, please, love the native land.
One hurries up...
© Copyright: Валерия Суворова, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109110206966
Свидетельство о публикации №109110206966
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