Winds are blowing in different ways,
They tear my soul.
Thousands, thousands pieces of me
Are flying away
Somewhere to Pole,
Somewhere to South, to West,
They are free and light.
They don’t have any rest,
They don’t remember that they were mine.
But I don’t call them back myself –
They're afraid of each other.
Only winds are able to send
Every piece to its own brother.
They are clinking like broken glass,
They are lonely screaming at night,
And melting inside of my eyes,
Tired of flight…
Winds
© Copyright: Termitka, 2002
Свидетельство о публикации №102101400849
Свидетельство о публикации №102101400849
Рецензии
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