once said that human life pitiek
get in the trees, kill snakes and breed son.
Now is not enough!
Oh, get in the tree is not enough,
Snake life the last day of the last blink too late:
enough, enough, enough.

. . . Heavy fall in the wind
flowers bowed heads of the clan. . .
And never,
and never,
and cease to be never-
not you my voice migratory birds,
my eternal rush,
I do not work near svilkto we buy
a caring touch. . .
Oh, how I now understand:
the most difficult - it is empty,
emptiness without meeting in the morning.

So there you are - work and haste -
Sudden end. . . and it\'s enough.
And sobbed more heavy pines in the wind
about what we could.

But just as the man to go bald and come
memory is not even allowed to pick up,
and the green world as a field neienācies
the circle of light, which called for life.

flying in flames - and praying to forgive,
flying in flames as the eternal question. . .
No responses. Here are unable to give peace of mind
no one alive. Plug and grieve.

Never again would not roll up the date
the brightness Vizbulis viz.
Through the summer grass skriedams,
this beam is faded.

Today no longer are. . .

either now itself is surrounded by grass,
sky as a large, wide-Paris Las
add eyes and a full long
loved ones at the heart of their summers.

Everything is all together. Black nepārsāpēs,
if there is no green there\'s hope here,
the moss under the snow knows how to save.

distant mountains behind them
zemzemītē\'ll be
yet this side of the forest voices
the murmur of my life.

Here comes the planting time -
without the gardener\'s fall.
Seedlings tend to walk in the world,
growth driven by a will.

We are returning to their children,
we tend to fluctuate again in grains germinate,
We went long svešādajās,
and can not survive in its lifetime,
and words can not be expressing.

rising again in tears,
easy to climb over the coast. . .
least likely to cry,
the deep hurt.

Human life is whole.
Only one day.
One year.
One life.

feel more able to save and mend -
even the tip of the needle spīvums green
but breaks down in moments of constant pain -
there called branches of the black woodpecker hammered. . .

It was the last cry of the cuckoo,
echo after the river has lost immediately,
but you said nothing himself and neatsaucies.

Long-lived stars
and candles near the flame,
that, Warm kusdama on your hands crying. . .

What life - as far as visible as bright
all the attached
yourself and even attached!
Never runs out over the sea
sunset so great and golden.
Never again after you neilgošos
alkaini so and so in va

rented, confusion crane hook
Mūsmājas sky.
Never, never, we no longer neizrunāsim
It is to be blind to wander winds.