Нет причины для кручины:
В небе лета синева,
За окошком цвет рябины -
Дорогие кружева.
Яблонька уже пустила
По ветру свой белый цвет,
Всех нектаром напоила,
Кто слетался на фуршет.
На озёрах старых утки
Словно лодочки снуют,
Раздают лягушки шутки -
Создают в душе уют.
А по небу стелет ветер
Взбитым пухом облака,
И в сиреневом букете
Утонула грусть-тоска.
Одуванчики-смешинки
Раздарили семена,
Эти тёплые снежинки
Унесла реки волна.
В поле море земляники –
Притягательный парфюм.
Меж листочков солнца блики
Прячут птицу Гамаюн.
А по небу стелет ветер
Взбитым пухом облака,
И в сиреневом букете
Утонула грусть-тоска.
Нет причины для кручины,
В небе лета синева,
Солнцем созданы картины
Радости и волшебства.
Лето 2024
Нет причины для кручины
© Copyright: Лариса Кожелетова, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124071505511
Свидетельство о публикации №124071505511
Рецензии
No reason for sorrow's weight,
The sky is painted blue in flight,
Behind the window, rowan's state—
Delicate lace of pure delight.
The apple tree has shed its white,
Its petals drifting with the breeze,
Nectar offered, sweet and bright,
To all who gather, spirits pleased.
On ancient lakes, the ducks glide by,
Like little boats upon the stream,
Frogs share jokes that make us sigh—
Creating warmth within a dream.
The wind across the heavens weaves,
Clouds like whipped-up wool afloat,
In violet bouquets, it leaves—
A grief and longing gently smote.
Dandelions, playful and free,
Spread seeds like laughter in the air,
These warm snowflakes, tenderly,
Are carried off by rivers' care.
In fields, the strawberries bloom,
An alluring scent so sweet,
Sunlight dances on each plume,
Hiding Gamaun’s bird discreet.
And yet again, the wind’s soft sweep,
Across the clouds, like spun-up fleece,
In violet bouquets, deep—
Sorrow's sadness finds release.
No reason for despair or gloom,
The sky’s a canvas, vast and bright,
Created by the sun’s warm bloom—
A world of joy and magic’s light.
Андрей Боровков 30.11.2025 20:02 • Заявить о нарушении
The sky is painted blue in flight,
Behind the window, rowan's state—
Delicate lace of pure delight.
The apple tree has shed its white,
Its petals drifting with the breeze,
Nectar offered, sweet and bright,
To all who gather, spirits pleased.
On ancient lakes, the ducks glide by,
Like little boats upon the stream,
Frogs share jokes that make us sigh—
Creating warmth within a dream.
The wind across the heavens weaves,
Clouds like whipped-up wool afloat,
In violet bouquets, it leaves—
A grief and longing gently smote.
Dandelions, playful and free,
Spread seeds like laughter in the air,
These warm snowflakes, tenderly,
Are carried off by rivers' care.
In fields, the strawberries bloom,
An alluring scent so sweet,
Sunlight dances on each plume,
Hiding Gamaun’s bird discreet.
And yet again, the wind’s soft sweep,
Across the clouds, like spun-up fleece,
In violet bouquets, deep—
Sorrow's sadness finds release.
No reason for despair or gloom,
The sky’s a canvas, vast and bright,
Created by the sun’s warm bloom—
A world of joy and magic’s light.
Андрей Боровков 30.11.2025 20:02 • Заявить о нарушении