A storm is raging over the black cliffs,
the wind is howling, crushing withered grass.
And below, a deep blue sea is mauling riffs,
sea without a bottom, without end, without mass.
There the stones recede under the blows of the surf,
they make a noise, displeased, like a swarm of bees.
And above, there are only lightning and clouds close,
that travel over the fogs, bringing rain instead of breeze.
Under the scorching sun, under the songs of the wind,
a green sprout made its way through the stones.
Defenceless against the elements, weak and thinned,
day after day it rises against the wind, above the stones.
How difficult it is to grow and bloom alone!
One sprout of life - against the cruel elements!
Hot stones, withering sun or fierce wind foehn -
will never end the life, hidden deep in the roots.
Sprout of hope
© Copyright: Добровольский Сергей Александров, 2021
Свидетельство о публикации №121112308641
Свидетельство о публикации №121112308641
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