Roses fade in the dusty cloud
That wraps up the whole land.
It’s hard to breathe, voices aren’t loud,
All people going mad.
No one remembers those good times
When roses smelt so good,
When poets in their lofty rhymes
Talked about emerald woods.
And where are now those shiny groves
That grew under the canopy?
There’s nothing but the smog above,
There’s only filth in all the seas.
For these are bad times, understand
That good times aren’t expected now.
But we must save the Earth, my friends.
To do it’s really in our power.
20–22.05, 11.09.97
69. Bad Times
© Copyright: Феликс Ремов, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120050307506
Свидетельство о публикации №120050307506
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