There is nothing to be done,
Except cultivating experience,
There’s pleasure to be son of the sun,
And keep life as eternal appearance.
There isn’t something great to believe,
Only what you choose for a moment,
There is nothing actual to steeve,
Only dealing sometimes with a toyman.
This life is a perfect arena for play,
Play for all comers and seekers,
You could be devil or client of e-bay,
An extraordinary opera singer.
Whatever is close to your style and soul,
Whatever you wish to arise,
Just remember to be silent in movement of goals,
And follow them with devotion in trice.
A perfect arena for play!
© Copyright: Маргарита Воеводина, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111041105089
Свидетельство о публикации №111041105089
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