I put away my clothes.
As an onion husk.
I don’t need any hopes.
They all for cowards are.
I’ve ripened, I want to motherland.
Over the river there my house reigns.
And the sun almost always is high there,
And if goes down – then rises again.
I’m ripe as a seed by autumn.
And I grow to the sky through the roofs.
I want freedom and rest – And I’ll go
Back to valleys of love, to be sure.
I put away my clothes
© Copyright: Елизавета Судьина, 2011
Свидетельство о публикации №111091105917
Свидетельство о публикации №111091105917
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