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Poems /
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Nevāks tomorrow.
This year, the white bee hives
Will be unable to fulfill.
Daddy, daddy, dear daddy,
Your bees, crying,
Also in the field of buckwheat cans
Jāizraud pain.
And from the time we left.
And now brutally beaten,
When the dying minutes.
How do you want with nature!
Comes once a year sērst
Soul right.
Clothes they leave a trail,
When the light in your ears soon.
Only time will go further
Their voices in your e
Or ever stop?
This will become a pale blue evening.
Frosty wind over the earth we\'re doing.
Without you is not cuckoo voice.
My childhood zviedz foals.
Already behind out by dying vēriem
My dream Ķīvītes screaming.
I took up sēriem willows,
I feel like a bit of IETS.
You in silence for so long Iries,
That everything around you izliesmo. . .
and gaist.
And then good-bye!
Then you are divorced from it.
When you open up the autumn sun eyelid.
It is time to leave our swans.
It goes.
What can not say no.
-----------------
Oh, good mother, opens its gates
My bees at your hands.
Along with the daily happiness
Sweet words and bitter tears,
Which can not be overlooked.
Me, Mom, I love the people radio,
Life can be so strong.
Through the harsh bitterness wires,
I would go to highways spirit.
How aizmūža white wheels,
I wish this land to others
This expansion in the land itself.
Face tear fell,
But until the last of vālam
Nepakrita grandfather. . .
I feel you so noble spirit.
Dreamer!
Eternal quietude,
To you we rarely walk a miss.
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