Читать книгу The poetry of spring - C. Zueva - Страница 11

The sky eternal way

Lumps of a snow were

On the tree branches trades a white.

A Father Frost makes silvery trees

So was quickly today per night.

First hoar lied per night

On the Way to all fields.

But winter will not always

And We will meet.

The life nature faded now it.

It will rise at the right time quick.

The sky’s eternal Way is

Always leads us by the hand a week.