Читать книгу Happy Note - Валентина Молодовская - Страница 10

An autumn road, and small woodlands

Standing aside the way,

They are now, like curtains,

For what invisible stays.

The wind is whirling them, no care,

Tearing flames from leaves and away,

And aspens’ sharp bright flare

cannot be handled with sky’s blue veil.

And somewhere in these woodlands

My soul and heart are still alive,

And life in torn-up rags and clods

still, can produce beautiful words.