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Poems /
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You still think: so much addressed
. . . Evening brutally takes shears -
All elections were breaking down.
And silence you.
Do all picked up?
Or all nine?
Or were the mower?
Or were grābējs?
Or to Emergency zudināt?
Or were the savior?
Silence all around.
Over the mountain coming days.
Since you are doomed.
Since you have one.
Long and colorful life is.
Dream the dark walls of spruce
Bitter winds are blowing.
For autumn becomes rudenīgāks mind.
Even hold a candle sažņaugtajā riekšā,
As it burns, who had built up over years.
And we do not exceed your brightness,
Where every word on our hearts grow
How warm the sun passes through our hands,
Oh, not to believe that the lesson comes in black
And so lost an invaluable friend.
You Latgola - ground bolt. . .
Tys myužs, DHW Dīveņš the sun has given,
With you, Latgola, piļdeits.
Cries our hearts to the winds.
Longer with us you could not. . .
Harsh burn marks furrow morning.
Friends that will last them a long time.
In order aside bitter mounting terror,
You uzziedēsi memories.
Who knew how many warm.
Take Fate - breaking open a living bridge
We live in the path of pain remains.
Today we bring hard words.
It is a stone falling on his chest,
Through all his life nenovelt.
When a bright star dries away.
The amber autumn road
As the storm breaks magnificent lime.
Full of life. . .
-----------------------
You, nestunda, oh, why come
So useless at the moment
When a man collect the fruits?
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