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Poems

Page : 386
. . . We win when we won the war themselves servants soul.
Every nation goes forward, a burning heart. And magic on him no power.
Nothing
man has the same relation with the land as a tree, which keeps him up by the roots.
taken off the wings and carefully consider their native shore.
Miracle is just around the corner.
Only he who lives face to face with the earth, everything can go through anything nesamaitādams.
is clear spring water that comes from deep apakšzemēm, speaking in a friendly language, but even more clearly in grains, striking out in the sun kaltuši serial, ground mill burned Versme oven, turn into bread land travelers.
As long as mankind inhabited the earth, there will be people who see and hear, feel and suspects something quite different than normal mortals.
of land lying in our bosom and futurity less common, there is happiness, and happiness on this lap just knows how to keep it that cling to the plow.
Living where I live, but do not say never - here I am at home, now I have found a new homeland. In the Know: native to only one - where you were born, where you were born and lived life your parents, your ancestors for generations.
native ievziedu smell gives more power than the exotic lotus flower.
Now, Mother, for your mother\'s heart,
Which I neaizsniegt depth,
One small moment - the fates, hear -
Reverence head bent.
Listen, baby, with your child\'s ears -
Each dear mother\'s name is holy.
To this flexible and soft sounds
Lying in the call, the de
Oh, my dear māmulīt by himself now, I
Still looking at and where I dealt with at times given
There is singing a song that comes from the soul, -
Then, māmulīt, the little piece of you.
In your heart I feel peace again
How old day light hours, Mom!
And I think it would be something forever,
While nothing could not hurt.

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Page : 386


Poems

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