under new year...

Lilacs burst buds,-
 Not in the spring, but on New year's eve.
 Pity those tender sprouts:
 Snowstorms ahead of the turn
 
 And the zealous winds will descend,
 And with a beard gray frost.
 I won't make it worse,
 It's already too much trouble.
 
 The rose Bush rustles its leaves,
 The buds reach for the rays,
 The flowers are green in places,
 Sometimes fogs at night.
 
 & nbsp; LYUDMILA ZHURAVSKAYA


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