The rainbow above the mead
Through veil of departing rain
The glance of summer, slightly shy
But charming and a little sly
As overture of new strains.
It rang in the celestial shrine
At seven rainbow"s strings
And with this cello divine
Around me there seemed to shine
A lot of camomiles and pinks.
Then falling rainbow"s bits
To be absorbed by latter drops
Dyed motley grasses in nigh meads
And gilded up the soppy fields
In boundless trans-river scopes.
Dyes had a great deal of the hues
Like frantic fancy of Van Gogh,
There were red clusters, mount vews,
Dark stormy sea, light morning dews
And sure feathers of a cock.
The cuckoo has predicted twice
Restoring my to-day"s mood blue
And sorcery fled in a trice
As if transformed to other size
But I have touched the holy clue.
Mirgorod
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