Noise in street – but the town of silence is here.
I am walking now somewhere and feeling the fear,
That again my desires and thoughts are near
Making sensing myself melancholy.
I am going along to obscurity,
Recollecting the life`s incongruity,
Keeping mysteries in great security,
Running forward pass by little holly.
This is forest. It`ll bring back what once was mine,
With the shadow of sun here, in countryside line,
Just alone sense will reflect on sea`s surface fine –
Sense, which sleeps very far from the world.
Now I`m seeing in twilight sun`s roundness,
Switching memories on the full loudness,
I became Bliss`s Bird! It`s my proudness.
I am Bird of Bliss in split of cold.
The Bird - перевод произведения Птица
© Copyright: Демо-Версия, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111032207597
Свидетельство о публикации №111032207597
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