Читать книгу Happy Note - Валентина Молодовская - Страница 2

This autumn day is high and clean,

And golden leaves above your head

The shadow, before unseen,

Onto your soul will not spread.

And even rain is not so bad,

And the wind is just a joker-rambler,

Until your years make you sad

All of a sudden, —

               No problems matter!

With the frivolity of spring

You freely run into the autumn,

It`s easy when you are eighteen

To hit the pace, and age`s forgotten.

But miraculous autumn taste

will touch your soul one fine day,

And cry with grief

                are interlaced.

And you will see, your hair`s gray…

And then – you live your further life,

And days at all cannot be seen.

The point is to treasure love,

Able to bring back us to eighteen.