Читать книгу Philosophy of Love - В. Спейс - Страница 20

A frosty strand

Early Autumn gray.

Memories, lake surface,

Spring comes up to me.

I look into her blue eyes

On a colorful wreath of hair.

Nightingales see nights

Among the interwoven heavy braids.

And whitens frosty strand

Memory of the night, farewell to that.

Floating above the dark surface

In the hair, gray strands.