Sun
Is in the middle of two hills.
Wind is blowing out of fence,
And trees take light.
Usually my heart and this place
Are in a cage,
And mountains leave satisfied…
The leave is shining like a moment,
The look of destiny gets slimmer entirely
And equals to the black soil.
But the air, the sky received a tongue,
Returning wind with leafage in palm
To present to evening.
For whom life is lasting quarrel?
For who is heaven is apartment?
The sadness is melting in the darkening air,
The weather coddles a spring,
Which is a thread of the tramping wind.
I open the door
To believe to external world,
And life seems to be
Always so far away.
From moment to moment
© Copyright: Анна Иерусалимская, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111062102493
Свидетельство о публикации №111062102493
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