Hare goes through the grass and smiling
Hall by pautiņiem bunny running around.
Grass is ended, the stones began
Without balls bunny came home.

rich Lieldiensvētki,
Large eggs wanted:
Three dieniņas, three naksniņas
Stealing fowl eggs.

Is it a duck, goose or ostrich,
They give us all the eggs.
Easter bake or boil them,
Do not forget to sift the salt

visited quite deep fields
Novirpoju two eggs.
Well Easter is splendid,
Egg war and victory!

hares is today a working day
stretch eggs in 100 and 1
They will be painted and battered
It all turned pale chicken

Vij lark nest from the sun,
And dawn Lapwing Vij their nest here.
Hares are started by evening
To the egg, paint and collect their baskets.
By small roots across the field naked
Easter comes and wants godparent HALT
This fun, who sat on swings and a cock
This joy, which is built up over the year.
Easter comes the long awaited message
The sky that looks makes for the construction,
What germ happy soul called to plant
And pūpolkokos sun gold draw.

dream of Latgale

Where to Begin sky? Where sili ended? -
Everything has now begun silver flashes. . .
Where bloom blue lakes, blue-flowering flax,
sērst jāju memory palsajā horse.

My Latgale - sērdiene expensive,
protects you even mounds of Grey?
- Where to begin lakes? Where ends the line?
What struck me she would come, greeted the first? -

There earth and altar incense breathes,
flower crosses are falling, roads and houses.
Stars reflecting off the lake cord -
God is talking to the people there. . .

Reverberant fuddle apmaldās time there
noreibst and allow the current to carry it.
Latgale clear water drinking,
I am the eternal prisoner of me.

Short had my dream strange night -
awake, I feel better and cleaner.
My Latgale - youthful land
Another skurbina me your memories of incense.

/ Valdis Krāslavietis author of the poem /

last tram

When the last tram went,
I carried curled rails
And put it in the sidelines.
And track site
Every night of pine
And foxes dig burrows.

In the morning I have piles of rails
And go to work,
No they do not do in my place
So condemn the harsh gaze,
If the tram instead of
Stop godasardze stand wasps.
I am waiting for the evening,
Once again the rail saritināšu.

I nekāpšu pine
And ore neuzrunāšu wasps.

/ Poem writer Aija Vikmane /

Riga

Oh, this town! Songs and laurels
Her shame and beauty cover.
Again I went through it like a dream
Spotted at night when the lights is eager.

I saw signs placed in the dark:
Please, please, here - items which are worth!
The dark face of a beautiful fairy tale,
Miss you-go, smiling - buy!

Proud soldiers marching stroke,
Laughed flute, bass and groaned;
Ragged boy, hiding at night,
Silently as the bat flew low.

White girl into the batter
Across the head, where music is playing,
And as huge spider webs
People I bump disappeared.

/ Poem author John northerners /

Latvian summer

Yellow linden flower bee buzzes,
the cane (this side of the water lilies)
sitting in the rafters.

I sleep and are looking to the sky;
around the sun
and God.

/ Poem writer Richard Rigan /

Here we are

. . . pulled through the era of our time
and all of us along.
Did not help pushing
homeland, alien,
let alone who.

Here we are,
they pulled through -
the hole
which do not have time to tinker,
which is currently the starting leg hole.
Nothing to complain about hard times!


/ Poem author John Viesiens /

We are thrown into the middle of an era
as a small change to a low value.
None of us do not require
neither authorized nor advice.

What we count the cardiac,
one off against
and then throw back to the stream changes.

By a wide river swimming
try to feel your self-worth.

/ Poem author Voldemars Aven /

Latvia

The same sacred
You do not forget:
or get up in the sky,
or dive into the depths of the sea,

or friends
divide our joy,
alone or Meet
with the enemy -
You\'re in Latvia!

/ Ojars The German author of the poem /

Where?

Where trees grow visstaltākie?
Where the whitest clouds?
Where the birds are singing the loudest?
The grass thrives dwellers?
Homeland.

Where the sources of the clearest?
Where daw wisest?
Where cats Naud favorite?
Where the fish are flying most deeply?
Homeland.

Where the hell jumps visellīgāk?
Where blueberries vismellīgāk?
Where meadows bloom viskošāk?
Where in the world the most secure?
Homeland.
Their own people.

/ Peters, author of the poem Bruveris /

Dzimtais fireplace

Native fireplace in the sky are.
In order to come home
we never doors,

but the book covers
brīvojam and space itself,
where the home country to be.

The snail can not learn,
the home is a refuge for us,
but we will retreat your home.

/ Poem author Mara Zalite /