The forest cloaked in mist—
A woodland nymph beside the stream.
I dared not speak, her beauty
Flickered softly, like a dream.
Upon her half-bare form,
Vines curled and gently crept—
Casting shadows laced with magic,
Where sacred spirits slept.
I asked, though only in my mind:
How do you live where dreams arise?
What world is born from out of ours?
Who holds such kindness in their eyes?
And then the nymph began to sing:
“In dreams I dwell, where rivers ring—
In harmony with earth and sky,
We guard the good that does not die.”
A wind arose—she turned and twirled,
Dissolving in the mist, unfurled.
She vanished, yet within my mind,
A shadow of her stayed behind.
The Forest Cloaked in Mist
© Copyright: Зейнаб Салимова, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125042307390
Свидетельство о публикации №125042307390
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