I admire by triumph in tear-stained glass,
Inherent in the essence of God's eternity,
A summer rain again knocks in a window,
My Great Pacific covered a cloudiness.
All, day and night mixed up ...
Where is the heaven?
Where is a ground?
Only the moon sees me.
The air is a fresh and cold,
Water's music overboard,
whispers a beautiful word,
by a sound meets the World.
And once again,
I draw the same paysage,
The hills are covered in it,
a light blue and a clear ice.
- No, it's not a mirage!
Shines under the sun, the moon,
a cold white snow hat.
A shadow gives to peaks a weight.
Light brings a purity of shade!
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© Copyright: Сказки Про, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №215101900285
Свидетельство о публикации №215101900285
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