Rough paper siberia

A misty morning in the fresh-breathing woods
Of summerly Siberia of many lively floods
In peace was lulling our tourist's souls,
That found in fierce and brutal Moscow inner falls
And void in millions of lukewarm others,
Exhausted by the giant city which just smothers
Little men and then devours their inside,
Leaving one wan mass to be on power's side.





Our campers were enjoying their leaves
Beneath the gummy, balmy pine-trees
On сozy carpets of fir's dewy  needles
And mossy rocks. And only their riddles,
Laugh and breathing altered the fair peace
Of virgin nature, untouched with human's kiss
Of greed, corruption and his flippant use,
Unseen with human's eyes, looking to abuse.





 

Uniting with their beauteous mother

In deep thoughts an deep felings mindly gone,
They suddenly will realize they're not alone :





Their tired bosom nestled on the ground
To re unite with God who wisely has found
Human's essence from the fresh and power-lending soil.
Away from vanity, one wished so much to resuscitate his soul
And let God come inside through this unmanned nature...
He was so tired to see himself a wrong and ill creature.
In depth of soul, where words serve not, he asked Lord
To give him little chance to change in this rot world.





In morning's tender rays of rising star called sun
And distant water splattering with singing birds as one
They all forgot the meaning of the word,
In this fair nature's perfect chord...

In deep thoughts an ddeep felings mindly gone,
They suddenly reralize they're not alone
(TO SHOW THAT GOD ACTS IMMEDIATELY AMD PTACTICALLY)