Hospitalu Street.

beautiful and dark parādenes
you lost
I will never see your hip Supa

but I have not come here by graceful

I saw more solo and Soups
there were about five in one place
with eyes red as a sad saulesriets

Paul had brought before
bidis are for one
because there were eleven
and had a free day

I pretended that they do not know
(I scar pretended to heal)
I Muku shops and purchases ten eggs
I know him
they are out of our schools

I do not want to participate in these feast
I do not know as adopted
it is then
the parent factories
and fathers somewhere Drop
and creates a flat-edged style
modified, which hides the scars

to forgive Labin
who live on this street
and his labumins
shows every day

but they do not and will not this cards street salt

one of those guys
old and pale
perhaps the poet -
all his life writes
pieduļķotām the blood
on the pavement
the poetry
to make everything stop

Home and blankly look
Judges rock gardens
have a free day
eleven
and curse

All that I could not, it turns out that I can
Everything you can not, it turns out, the ability to
I swallowed the tears, smiles at her sorrow
and fairy tales: all
I will rebate you the wind. . .

Everything that I did not know, is exactly what I can,
What I did not know how crosswords mines
I aiztramdu helplessness, smile of living
and fairy tales: I can.
And the sky unfolds.

I will. . .
And can be infinitely more to follow.
Love, hate, want.
Go outside and the wind is called
And love.

And the imaginary balcony breathe fresh air.
Time for me to spoon
a cup of coffee bag.

In the cup of coffee
on your desktop.
I am willing to melt
To you it is sweet. . .

Gauja fog

You look like the earth to go take a shower,
You listen as the dew falls in the river, -
And the need to go and need to speak more quietly,
And do not be startled the peace.
and desire that this silence is not the edge.
But the loud beats chest. And who knows it. . .
As land use scent linen sheet
We were both wounded in two Gauja mist.
On one hand the other panicle gently
At a hot coal - hot. And it seems -
Becomes bright white mist as the sun will be provided
With pērkonbalsīm nightingales sing. . .
Heart swallows a black rush,
You run away. I\'m staying. And then what?
And then - nothing. At the end of the song is no longer -
Not tomorrow, not next year, not that. . . Never!
I reach behind you but steep
And also where the wedding loud noise,
I will remove your handfuls of his
And in this place back in return.
To race with rain smell you in the face,
As pure and as bright as the smell can be,
And smoked fog Gauja bird down
And just as white, as is tonight.

flower merchant

Yes, I have finished filfaku
A what?
So I madder Sule?!
there is an even greater mess than Vefā.
E, pulled viņreiz
with a pair of lampočkām cache.
Izručījos a kakže.
Vovka me partkomā Sanco
For drivers not already. . .
Live, this morning brought flowers to the Volga
Dulles, for which
the tumor itself!
Olga Store by Sept.
and flowers are always Frish.
Viģiku bought recently
Drop by when the blood circulates in the slow
This cards? E, man, this cards you do not,
only as a friend - these are the graves.
A of this cards you can pick up
for brutes! Red carnations
Revolution, biedrīt, so to speak.
Blood flower

OK to live in my country,
What else will the other -
Achieved towards the mountains -
Birch ment in Boots:
Adjust the face, proud, tall,
Highly raise your head there. -
Elsewhere on the white birch is not as
And so proud of nowhere.
Also, the pride in me hot.
Where was the pride of all of us?
-It from You! - Birch says.
Friction satisfy: - This from you! -

Everything is a joke, the laugh of all,
Let the other cries and moans,
If you are good - pakavējies,
And if not - Laid off.

Laid off on the other edges
Rancidity in one place soon,
Or to the other end of the world,
By themselves the pleasures found.

If you do not have money, short wings,
Sleep where the fate of the wall,
Waiting for death, paradise,
Stay low and crawling into the hole.

world\'s most beautiful berries

Vis the world\'s most beautiful berries
Complete this fall rowan twigs.
The world\'s most beautiful berries
Eat crow and starling flocks.

The world\'s most beautiful berries
The sole ground that they are bitter,
Severe, red trusses
Swinging unplucked.

I have only one heart itself,
One bottle of wine rowan,
And how little it can fill,
This is what we all know.

I have only one heart itself,
But but you also have hearts!
Then tear off all rowanberries
And they all winter you will hear.

But when a quiet evening cicada sings,
Pass the moon red horns.
Mountain ash and red blossoms at midnight,
Heavy clusters of berries.

The most beautiful fruits in the world,
Fall asleep at night I have.
And the first snow and tears pouring,
As red tears in the snow.

And if by some pavārtē
After iniquities stink,
Call: I only have one heart!
Call and you will hear.

Gift

For you less sad and silent,
Have a sometimes netrīcētu shoulder, -
I thee a present of the Riga roof
Believe me, he is very old.


Out of our century, but the last year.
Watch for the green moss stīdz.
Small canopies are not his children-
Pārskatoties does not take them up.

Look how light and reading,
Forgetting how many times had to grieve
Sunset colors assigned
It is as if fortune kept the old roof,

Fearing that it may fall and break,
Look at it, and come closer to-
Is he lost or sad thing aplīst,
It is presented to you forever.

Life does not like when too many are sad
Also, if a bad scars heal
Also, if we are all under one roof
Let\'s just when outdoors rain.

now.

You came to him in
And wanted to say that they love,
But stop blushing
And asked quietly - what now?

He looked and felt
How much you give him a lovely and expensive
He wanted to say - my stay!
But perplexed, said - pusdesmit.

Thank you embarrassed,
And apgriezies slowly and went,
He wanted to call your name,
But you already closed the door.

He said the morning - good afternoon,
And went around the world.
You klīdāt long lonely,
And satikāties already gray.

girl from my class.

There are overgrown trails, sight itself -
Held each spring, new grass digs,
But the guy who once you met
I guess I\'ll be a little jealous. . .

Not because we often views mijām
And now almost nepārmainām them -
No, the two paths often turn away,
Distance to the other would experience.

Not because of the Gauja meadows,
When high water mist descends weave,
I went, feeling your hand in your
And fear. . . you kiss.

No, at that time neliesmoja chest pain,
Some kind of anxiety, something strange had \'
In parted, and in no pain
These days driving the sun neapvij.

But now here - life on the big tracks -
For me, remembering you, warm moments will be
You\'re a girl from my class,
Although the bell has long been the class nesauks us.

And all life - her, you, me -
Where needed, put friends.
We were quiet school corridor calls
From such tālēm nesasauks together.

Well, come! No. . . you will realize itself -
Soon our back hall digs ditches
And to the guy that once you will meet
I did then - I am jealous.

On this earth,
of these mountain birch
I neaizvilinās no:
here, where the loamy Lemesos
Autumn morning frost
it is as stubborn Hedgehog
through Brien,
here me your pain,
here I have my joy
Set beneath each birch allowed;
here my children growing up,
tough and slow-growing
Whereas the sandy ground rye grain;
until a chunk of rye
give me your strength,
Daugava while talking to me,
while still at the sky I seek,
while the forest meadow
In another small moments of happiness, -
I am a daughter of this land,
I belong to his mother,
tempted elsewhere
Me nothing.

Over midnight weave Midsummer bonfires. Bonfires and flowers - all ablaze, as fern I\'ll see you in the hands, green ash, I\'m burnt. And meadow as green ash sail in a white fog swell to roam, I will forward to your lips and rose sailing song echoes. Without rebirth would be difficult to live, every birthday is the new dream. Already knocking sunrise sky panes. What a strong midsummer night - nesagums life, this country back under the palms of us, I am home on your lips feel.

Tap the ground, the ground is white.
Land is a white, a moment ago had green.
Give your heat will again be green.
Remember, remember, remember - your part is green.
Remember, remember - everything in your open.

Hail is hail, frost is a frost,
Mist is a mist over all so far.

On a hill fire courses
Where we ziemosim this summer?

How can you think of how much weight,
How much weight a bonfire?
What can you, icicle, icicle, do,
When you, the sun īlentiņš durs?

Hail is hail, frost is a frost,
Mist is a mist over all so far.

So how will fire on every hill,
So we shall live also.

most beautiful trip

I told a friend of a man
that many around the world floated,
The desert yellow cushion
Often waited in the morning. . .

Sometimes under the palm fans
drinking southern glow
And dog-sleigh seat
Interfere over the icy dzelmēm.

But when he was asked to tell
of its most beautiful way,
He gave a brief answer now,
Every word of the soul dataspace: extracting:

- To the world\'s droning highways
Long, long I\'m gone,
But beautiful and a favorite for all those
Is the path that leads back home.