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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