ïðîòîòèï íà ðóññêîì
http://www.proza.ru/2013/09/29/1379
The order of the sleepless nights
And sleepy days and this disorder is
Habitual… No common mark
Without respect for everybody.
I broke the vicious circle myself
To reach the happiness, didn’t know
That destiny is not in hand
Of mine as totally I wanted.
Our future was in careless hands
Which sentenced at the end their owner…
Such way is typical on the lands
Where blind obedience is priced more than
Vague feeling of a light in mind…
No light, dark strings are their offer.
They trouble heart and heart demands
To cut them even with pain and sorrow…
There are light strings, as if they fly
To stars, the moon, and shady trees,
To each of drops of waves which come
With gusty winds from spacious sea.
The blue of brook draws strings, they shine
By every sparkle in the streams…
And go to mountains of snow-white,
To each of dawns you’ve ever seen.
*
Don’t be aside from native roots,
Then you won’t be of hopeless men
Who join their heart with screaming suture
To stone hard in tyrant’s chest.
Believe a string that sings like lark
Sincerely in the deep, that’s rested
Untouched, virgin in your heart,
Put roots to heavens and the earth.
There’s only way to save man’s heart
To know that feeling of sincerity
It helps to seek the missing part
And link together strings of destiny…
This coupled string finds out the tune,
The tune which’s heard as sounds of waves in sea,
As song of bird, as voice of brook
And Mother’s smiles you’ve ever seen.
P.S.
We all is like to one whole tree,
Which links together earth and sky,
The past and future… blooming glees
And sorrows… correlated lives.
Not only roots of clan or nation
Are joining us, there is a link
Which makes connection through air
Of words between flowers like a bee.