Far, far away, hidden from prying eyes
There wells a spring
That hasn't any rise
And flows downhill to infinity.
A wanderer’s blessing
So drink it up safely
For it’s living water in it.
Remedy for the sick, salvation for deceased
The place where I met you.
So the rock is wizened
And heather is limp
As wind barely whines through the cleft,
If I ever return, there will be no whim
I'll be your another bereft.
Oh, distant soul,
Where have you gone?
You hear the howl and silent pray
So deep withdrawn
Far, far away.
daur shiya
© Copyright: Запах Сарсапарели, 2017
Свидетельство о публикации №117081306181
Свидетельство о публикации №117081306181
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