Рецензия на «Зимний сон» (Денис Сергеев)
Here's moon caught fire behind a distant copse, it not be warm anymore - November in the yard ... And the thread of the last autumnal cobweb hung on a dull neighbor's lamp... And the sun rises in morning already timid, all timidly looking in frost dew. Under boots... ice crunches in early puddles, and sad, and worry, and light in the soul ... Frosted grass bristles, voices of pre-dawn birds - no longer heard. And rivers of waters cooled unhurried flow preparing for the coming cold weather. The last wedge grunted dejectedly in parting - waved its wing, melting to boundless blueness... Into the heart of warm, bright, joyful sadness you'll come in winter, that you dreamed me... Бабка Ежка 22.03.2023 09:36 • Заявить о нарушении
Слова журчат словно речка!..от них становится теплее на душе...стихотворение обволакивает своей теплотой... красиво!.. :)
Бабка Ежка 22.03.2023 05:09 Заявить о нарушении
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