I marvel at the eyes of spring, To Kis Sivina Marmurova. You whisper in the world The sky fades away. I'm searching in the mists of childhood Your image is so youthfully happy. I feel the tears of motherhood, What fell on the child’s body. I'm looking for distant moons Your still lightless laughter. I can’t catch up... Yunist It became a quiet fog... And there - behind the river - The apple tree is still in bloom, What, having fallen to our lot, Becoming snow in your hair. There the sky is so dreary And my heart is so hot! There's still bad luck there, We didn’t fall into our happiness. More Sculptor-Hour Hands Yours was not exposed. More master of flour slices Without showing the pain in your smile..
