It is sweet in the lands where we do not dwell,
Where the sunbeams shine and the oceans swell,
Where the earth is never defiled or sold,
And the sleeping Fathers rest in the mold.
We are honored there, in that distant view,
A reckoning force for the hostile crew.
For we stand right there, by the turn of fate,
Leaving stagnant swamps to the gossips’ debate.
To the tongues
© Copyright: Айжан Усеналиева, 2026
Свидетельство о публикации №126062808453
Свидетельство о публикации №126062808453
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