My mother Praha, golden city,
Your hundred towers are longing for the stars.
Like ancient times that are broken to pieces
And mixed with modern faces, banks and cars.
You talk to me through waves of river Vltava.
You told me with the arms of Charles bridge.
I see your face around me, mother Praha,
And fell your love that makes my soul enriched.
Prague
© Copyright: Паола Пехтелева, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109071202277
Свидетельство о публикации №109071202277
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