In a quiet little yard
Among the hot summer
Burst the hurricane and whirled,
After walking in the world.
There were little troubles for him
That he had done in the world,
And, bursting into our yard,
He changed it in a moment too hard.
Only survived that,
Who jinked, snuggled,
Who could hide and sat
And knew how to grovel.
On a par with the hurricane
Only the poplar stayed up.
Hurricane was breaking the branches,
My poplar did not give up.
He did not bow to him,
Only groaned and swayed.
The hurricane weakened,
Swept over somewhere far away.
Poplar
© Copyright: Антониа Ирина Голь, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117061207149
Свидетельство о публикации №117061207149
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