an old theme
Oh, folded, friend,
their purple pride TOGU,
Tilt the edge of fame
unwieldy laurels-
how quickly they turn putikļu be covered!
poured myrrh and self-
as the soul remains the flavor!

These waves of the sea,
where strames
our likteūs
strange writings put together,

only the heart and a smile
forever remain.

Ausma
Lo-slow light sweat,
and night,
This night will soon be over.
Wake up and wonder:
what a strange silence on the island
side of the boat.
Slowly split Niedras,
algae and aquatic grass-
pink, red embers,
morning the sun rose
KAIST tales. . .
But your boat is washed out
between water products,
brown sticks.
white water roses
and mud-
aside.
In a quiet, eerie island.

Slowly sweat light
and night-
your night is over.

Morning
Is the only water around me,
sky,
and the sun.
It is morning, and all the winds all the more quietly.
It is morning,
not yet woken up
do not despair biting, no pain,
Sura no lust, no pain,
They are lying still, they are lying.
They are still lying in dream sleep,
trembling souls of false dreams.
Lying in slumber, even love,
full of star blue flashes.

Is the only water around me,
sky,
and the sun.
And the sun runs down the silver,
kākausēts silver over the wave
greenish spikes.

Where else more beautiful death
find that the world was running,
As the dawn sun žilbīgās
and silver wave dance?

the sand
Wherever you fly, dragonfly trembling?
Waves are cool,
Sand glow-sparkles
Smooth pebbles
flickers across the shadow
atrāsizbailēs captures the fingers bent grass.
Heart of a sudden tremble
slowly, so slowly
-Wherever you fly, dragonfly trembling?
Sun throws sand burning sparkle
power as bent grass there pirsti life.

Southern
As the burning golden apple
the sun
feel to the lips of his movable-
nowhere, nowhere I terminate
Life hot gain. . .
Dzirkstīgus heat rays
on the chest,
on the chest and forehead
merry with pain
my breaks-
nowhere, nowhere I will not be avoided
svelmainam kiss of life.
As the burning golden apple
captures the sun-
life, I was drinking up to a thousand ways:
from joy to despair
your miracle
Vera oven door.

Swimmer saurietā
Well see, quietude
the unhappy ghost ship
vizmaino wave your way.
Your fingers ray foraging
salmon in cool water
of my closed eye lids
as if from an abandoned shell
empty coffins,
lying somewhere in the bank
already half smiles to dig.

But I still neniršu, neniršu bottom
this night,
in later stages of your light,
cool and clean,
I have over a long
at dawn shedding.

Krusceļos
In what strange crossroads
we are facing-page brown, green, buds,
wilted, frost bite,
pusplaukušas still-bare trees under which the roads.
And every pleasure is different,
Other trouble: I hurt yesterday,
you today,
maybe I hurt tomorrow -
just wait
again when the leaves are falling at a crossroad. . .
When the buds of the branches,
trees, birds are singing,
and crossings of light falls-
I know:
I hurt today,
you pain tomorrow.
But over all the time we
leaves are falling and falling. . .
Green, brown, wilted, frost-chewed
falls and falls. . .

Maybe we will wake up
joint crossings of grief tomorrow. -

Find it
In the absence,
Guess what
with no answers
look sciss,
who are blind and dark-
perhaps because we were born
and therefore we jāmirts.
In no way,
which takes us
away from you.

Coming
Maybe this is the coming of the withdrawal,
expected-loss.
Maybe all the dreaming is believing,
nosaldēta flower icy night.
Only žilbusi
snowy sun
lying rays,
High brightness
under the influence of bright,
spiky light
sparkles flashes.

Maybe your appearance is a departure-
and my death.

sickle
Vviens time as the sickle
tevitevi cut down on the whole:
of light,
mo of darkness,
of lies and truths.

One word, one face,
yields as you wave
from the sea against the shore
sounding sands,
and you see no longer than
of land and sky-
all the result of one:

one name, one face,
one breath, one thought-

it is love.

The Sleeping Tree
Well I have a tree-
quiet and enchanted tree
the dumb birds branches.
-That my silence leak
language of the day loud? -
Recently, my branches
more salkoja wind,
all the leaves trembling
joyful Calais
and birds, birds
Jedi the end of each hand.

Well I am enchanted tree
and all the birds are silent.
The whole world is silent
the southern boolean.
Better coverage,
Better coverage and depth of its silence,
ismisumā his silence.

Wanderer
Your garden is far from my own,
and long is my way.
My shoes apburst road dust,
sand,
and the early dew drops.
My shoulders weary sun glow
and the sharp wind gusts.
My shoulders weary sun glow
and the sharp wind gusts.
My forehead slacina doubt rain
and uncertainty, fog-
or my soul will be so rich, secure and nimble,
to bring you a message:
traveler coming to your garden?

Wanderer
Your garden is far from my own,
and long is my way.
My shoes apburst road dust,
sand,
and the early dew drops.
My shoulders weary sun glow
and the sharp wind gusts.
My shoulders weary sun glow
and the sharp wind gusts.
My forehead slacina doubt rain
and uncertainty, fog-
or my soul will be so ri

And when the road is finished,
I gently tiptoe
You skaršu forehead
to say:
- You, and You
I will lead the way
to yourself.

Davis
In the autumn,
my garden is falling ashes,
and soon all the pages and zālemelnos.
But already-ku, ra summer long,
while stubbornly grow there
some perennials burdock:
grow and grow-
every year again!

Beat them,
cut them
carrion-
the death of medicine and the blade-
they are rising again

Then the memory-
ever
you heart
growing up
For many years tearing thistle
the inability mērdēt
will not,
not fall,
not mind.