Читать книгу The poetry of spring - C. Zueva - Страница 4

Herbs bloomed on the hill

Alone somewhere, a big forest stands. The Sun, forced his way, looked from clouds behind.

Woodland; Herbs bloomed on the hill. Bluish flowers were, white ones now are here.

Dawn walked quickly out the outskirts of the fields. A meadow trail, circled, was lost in the hill.

In houses were run a crazy Carousel. Lads, cups, bowls and loaves stand.