The string does not sound in the score.
And the melody is boiling with passion.
Only in the orchestra .
And it's more pleasant to hear
To marry an immense dream.
The passionate rhythm is difficult to touch with longing,
After all, He is alive in the music of life.
There are vines left from Malvasia
And they didn't catch the eye in winter,
Gazing sadly at the sky.
A tear suddenly turned into frost .
But the wind only drove the swarm of thoughts away.
There was a stormy night ahead.
Fleeting vanities,doom surf
They were carried away by a rushing river.
Nina Brower.
21.12.2024.
10.30.
Ответ Поэту на стихотворение
© Copyright: Нина Бровер, 2024
Свидетельство о публикации №124122102566
Свидетельство о публикации №124122102566
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