In an unspoilt valley,
Behind the stone shoulder,
Painted at dawn,
Backwaters Bunting.
Birches are not shy,
Spread the canvas,
Put on jewelry,
In an azure feathers.
Dripping dew drops,
With Rowan earrings,
On the pink wrist,
Nesting Finch.
Cool shade,
Crystal brook,
She would run with him to the edge of the forest,
Funny looking moth.
Playing the bell,
Bezus is a breeze,
Blow up the neighborhood,
Raspberry scent.
And there are girls all around,
Start a round dance,
On cotton hems,
A swarm of lace flows.
Songs will ring out,
I'll hear the bells,
I'll shake my thick curls,
And I'll marry the sacrum.
I look at the halts,
Green tents,
Mowed grass,
Horned sheaves.
My Russian villages,
Native land,
Reared in the sky,
The bride and the wife.
My Russian villages
© Copyright: Виктория Артёмовна Фадеева, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010303007
Свидетельство о публикации №120010303007
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