Читать книгу Philosophy of Love - В. Спейс - Страница 21

I love those drunk nights,

What is inhale with the aroma of silence.

And the grass in the meadows is thick,

And on the lake reeds.

Everything is familiar in the home side,

There the singing spring is noisy.

Then you went down the path

The look me, as now, beckons.

I forget you, you know, not in power,

Blue eyed tale me.

And the glade that I often see

There in our birch paradise.

I would forget this garden spring,

What do you remember with your color?

The roar of bees, the aroma of healing,

And your sparkling look.

I would forget this first autumn,

What broke my love.

Only memory has become gray,

I recognize you and myself in it paradise.