Читать книгу Unquenchable thirst of love… - Михаил Годов - Страница 25

The harvest time is now near…

Ripe fruit are hanging from the tree

In hands of your entirely giving

Themselves, so generous, as can be.

With yellow wax shine garden pears.

And apples're burning like the flame.

They turn to me and soul's embarrassed,

They now have so much to tell

About something long-awaiting,

About something so concealed,

About the endless, never fading

About life, about myself…

I fell the rhythm of universe

And the love's essence so inmost…