Читать книгу The poetry of spring - C. Zueva - Страница 10

In the starry sky, the moon is rising

With the magic dreams.

This is the radiant country,

This is the first tale as a winter real-ship.

The wind is scooped up snow,

To piling snows on the threshold

And to the fairy-town tale

Was waking up in this snow.

There were having

On the bushes a lot of snowy clothes as a wall.