Walking along the river shore
Up to the mount fading in clouds,
Thinking of good days when wanting more
You never asked that doubtful “How”.
Resting in moors where heather grows,
Feeding the fire with fallen leaves.
You walk in your dreams where water flows
Leaving behind your fallen dreams.
It must be that land calling for me,
Praying for me and dying for pride.
But autumn forest is crying, for we
Have lost something in the past,
Something of no price.
Where wild deers walk in the trees
In dignity of their royal kin,
Forest is covered with silver breeze
And golden net by the autumn spinned.
Going down the cliff with the song of springs
Resting itself on the bed of moss,
The melody living on wild wind’s strings
Whispers to you nature’s secret codes.
Tales of Scandinavia
© Copyright: Черные Крылья, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107010101441
Свидетельство о публикации №107010101441
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