Midway Point

Midway between the present and - in a dream crave,
Midway between the visible and - leaf rustle,
Midway between the morning and - painful west,
Midway point between the switch and - squared stake. . .
Unsettled feeling, oh, how you viļat!
I do it to one of strong and deep:
I\'m too young to not call laughter,
I am too old to love easily.

true, what do you survive with a sense
True, the dream, dream,
If everything is captured in a force
Who bezgalīgums wooded given.

Another arable field,
Another grind grinder
Called on the old
There is no leisure, no leisure,
As long as the white stork flies
And the land is green.

Caring placed on the shelf -
Pavasars go away,
And then crave and so-called
Go, when pine flower.

Across the clouds are flying
It wrapped around the hay,
Whispering:\'\' Good to live,
If you do not stay alone. \'\'

You can not ever bloom,
But the bloom is called
Ear, boll briedēt,
Drive out to shoot a lot.

Rau, over the horizon vāzto
Light palojot shove,
Something more telling,
What else will remain and will be

When we go away day
When we step tact rims
And when any alkai
Lost homeland night.

What we\'re making so much?
What the heart feels so deeply?
If we have been,
Then, we will always be.

Say:\'\' Do not go die
I go to fire Kurt;
This is not going away -
This is coming here. \'\'

not expect that youthful roses
Our gardens have ever even thrive.
Now lots of gray destiny
Years begun to give, buddy!

But if for you everyday radiation,
If it is a roguish glance glow
Thee youth have long branches
And the silver days will regret.

Years until the thorns
It\'s not only the roses alone,
Now faces often
Why do they run so fast.

But if you suffer no shortage of joy of life,
Despite the shadows away to heal,
Years crown of flowers
Able for a long threaded.

Even today, the time
I remember,
When around me SARKA
Strawberries
But, look, and how quickly
It runs a while,
Well around me Beck,
Beck so often.

The old can be considered only for people who bend down to tie shoe laces, think about what else was down there at times could make it.

not it fun to listen to yourself
I have the pink one-page chase

the rooster tow another hurdle sins
yes still have it my best.

either youthful comprehensive,
Let the vastness of the world\'s left?
Comes moderate time
go safe,
years of hauling all of the Strait,
life will start to patch up the holes.

My bright and simple freedom,
Like a delicate blossom.
Only one I belong to you,
Anything else.

Only one I serve you
Silently and stealthily,
Leafy and page through the everyday
Rough and gray sags.

What others are deprived,
You give me back,
So that I can even briefly
Quietly silver.

years

Your years star
worn-rays in hand
Your whistle years
winds up in a tree.
Your friends years
vālodzēm and urchins
Also, water lilies
lakes and forests.
Your years glows when
Rain gray linen.
Thy years are always
is a good fight.
Your nokūp years,
rye Cornfield donate
Your love knows years
and the failure to forgive.
Your years of joy
sad knit glove,
Your years of dreams
long run routes.
Thy glory years
Makonkalns climbing,
Thy years rose
smell of autumn frosts.
Your years and years me
Sounds like waves and the Gauja cīruļzvani.

this is our life
between waking and the snow
between love and fairy tales
between bread and Don sleep
in the middle of the sunflower
tiny black seeds and
uzdvašo stronger
and will not remain longer on the wrist
That is our life
root Zen garden in a foreign
wither on the threshold of the house
but put out to the cloud
neatminēt no evening
unexpectedly in the morning
That is our life
fragile and undeserved

We all long to sacrifice -
as long as you do;
and, of course, bear fruit -
as long as you do;
when the fruit is not the flower,
when the frost affect you -
more uzsvilpo and sing -
as long as you can!. . .

All his life the way I am home.
It is upon a woman\'s position.
The road laughing.
The way my display.
Road, harping tears wept.
Oh, how the winds are keen on the heat
By protecting me!
How they want it placed in the bosom of
And whistling away to bring you!
All his life the way I house
In order to come where you are.
\'\' Nowhere is not as good as home!\'\' You say,
And again I\'m feeling strong
Rome person and do not believe in sweet song,
Tempts to go away.
Smells of pies, and the window
Home Blessing bloom.

grizzled hair iemaldās
The rest of the people,
or, in the apcerēm, atcerēm,
stir,
but it\'s the Same
The Summer of gamma
Wander in Gladiolus -
Autumn mark.

The man is just so old
how hard it brings
years experience
how strong or weak
Wonder
of miracles.