(an interpretation of a composition by Mithrandir
http://www.stihi.ru/2004/11/15-1657)
I draw these images on waters of my dreams.
I gather lore in vessels of desire.
The sunlight that so oft in my face beams
Now gives such heat that it may breed a fire.
‘Tis not the fire of the Satan, coughing smoke,
Instead, this fire brightness gives, and power.
This fire gave me strength, and my pride broke.
I cast aside my crown to pray this hour.
The winds of change blow freely, straight into my heart,
Granting me wisdom, though I sought but lore.
They gave me vision, tore my pride apart,
Thus wings received the one who crawled before!
Vanity
© Copyright: Шуйский, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104111600015
Свидетельство о публикации №104111600015
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