Before my window every day I see
The solitary, silent, solemn tree.
My grandfather before my birth it saw,
The fir, which always threaten fire and saw;
And watchful in its shining, windy nook
The fir inherits each attentive look,
The dusky branchs in rainy weather spreads;
Its needles are twinkling eyelashs of the deads.
I see my eyes in air without my face
So twinkle myself I in the eery space.
26.05.1996.
The fir-tree
© Copyright: Владимир Микушевич, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112082409506
Свидетельство о публикации №112082409506
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