From the bottom, where the wind whispers quietly lines,
Where every step is like the first trail in the sand,
I rise without fear of the road,
With a dream that shines in the distance.
The bright light of the screen will not immediately flash
Not immediately the world will hear my voice,
But work and passion are my foundation,
My way, my choice, my peace.
There are shadows and fogs along the way,
And the wind beats, and it seems - the end,
But in the heart - flame, faith without deception,
Through the storm I go, I do not expect miracles.
Let the years go, let the peaks grow,
Let the echo of words fly through time,
I will create something that ice floes will not destroy,
The monument is not made of stone, from fire.
He will live in hearts, in moments, in songs,
In the ideas that will be born again and again,
Miraculous - this is more wonderful,
My dream, my love.
The monument dream
© Copyright: Кирилл Алексеевич Копцев, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126031505154
Свидетельство о публикации №126031505154
Рецензии