Time to fly

            
It’s time to fly.

The sky so deep and high.
               
The wind touches dry dandelion.

It’s time to fly.
               
So high-high-high

The silver waves of them.
               
               
Their wings shine in the sky
               
Their voices are so strange.
               
               
They make me crying.
               
They make me crying.

2
            
They make me crying.

They say me:

- Go with us!

But I only run,
               
& I hardly can…
               
But the wind’s so calm
               
It slowly comes and passes
               
Touching the late all grass
               
And the winter's came.
And the winter's came.
And the winter's came.


конец 90-х, Нижний Архыз, осень


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