The large yellow star up in the blue sky,
Soon he will get out of my sight.
He changes his color and he seems to die
To no more give us his bright light.
His redness reminds me of blood shed in war:
The sun’s a warman, I believe.
So hard does he fight, so high does he soar,
But after all he always leaves.
He goes through the sky and gets many wounds,
And they all paint his face in red.
But steadfast is he, he utters no sounds:
The warrior just goes to bed.
And, whole after sleep, he rises again
To struggle, to fight on and on.
He shone over Eve and Adam and Cain,
And he will shine, I’m sure, still long.
11.02.98
94. The Sun
© Copyright: Феликс Ремов, 2020
Свидетельство о публикации №120051906522
Свидетельство о публикации №120051906522
Рецензии