The other distant shore of life
Is still devoted to love...
The window's opened, and glass
Is starring to the world of chance.
The chance to reiterate the truth:
"I'm going to raise up smooth!
I was so tired, sticky, sad,
I was a burned coil, dead...
I wish to raise as a Phoenux far
To gloomy skies, gold-coloured, fine.
I'm rising, flying from the earth...
But still I'm living in the north.
Where the white, deep snows long
Are covering the world of Song,
Of summer-shine, where's ever-green
Is living Love, as ever sings..."
To these days a tremendous tune:
"Love may be distant... But anew,
When it comes nearer, the shore
Is blessed with flowers of Soul!"
The other distant shore...
© Copyright: Людмила 31, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115112106509
Свидетельство о публикации №115112106509
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