***
I remember the summer
hot day,
Grass on the hill
knee-deep.
So you want
into the birch shade,
In okilok Batey
mowing the hay.
Honey smell
mown grass,
Opposite-field
the future of bread.
And cornflowers -
pieces of blue,
What gave
people the sky.
The scythe rings,
sweat trickles,
Fate, of course,
know exactly:
My father will be gone
in a year.
The soul from grief
sobs...
I remember a hot summer day...
I remember a hot summer day
© Copyright: профиль удален, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120010300948
Свидетельство о публикации №120010300948
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