Читать книгу Calming the Storm - Протоиерей Олег Штельман - Страница 12

The Spring, it caresses with light,

And then the blood so young,

Shy with a bouquet kept so tight,

It meets the love so strong.

Along with singing of Spring birds,

The gardens in full bloom,

The priceless whisper and the thoughts,

The gifts of moment’s loom.

Towards the summer leaving,

Into the meadows wealthy cling,

All dressed in shades of greenest,

As nightingales will sing.

It strengthens, it grows, and it bestows,

It feeds and shares the gifts it has,

It comforts and enchants with love,

And towards Autumn lays its path.

In beauty transcendental,

A gold will scattered fly,

With widow’s tear not mending,

At times it sometimes cries.

As gracious as pavé,

Like parade it will flow,

With cheers and shouting “Bravo!”,

With star, it will then fall.

A nature in quiet hover,

With emptiness of trees,

With snowflakes it will cover,

With blizzard suddenly sings:

That snow is melting soon,

Earth wakes as droplets ring,

Creator rules the world —

Where there’s eternal Spring.