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Poems /
Poems for the soul
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Neither young nor ripe old years,
In the first spring flowers,
As the autumn mist gloomy.
Sen. years in the heart longs to me:
There\'s separation anxiety, there\'s a pleasure meeting,
There\'s dismal autumn, there\'s flowers and snow. . .
Oh, sing their song, it brings me joy
And strange pain - I cry.
Warm earth cold Heron,
Source from which the drink allowed,
Strength of interference from fatigue,
Air in the chest TĀLES dreams wings.
Long ago became bored,
So the heart,
As the heart and the sun is close to me.
These words, spoken by the sun,
Whispers in the ear by the blood,
What sweet-talking the sun,
The heart and the heart beats.
For a long time now wishes to you gods
Weave Your Life colors. . .
Neither young nor ripe old years,
In the first spring flowers,
As the autumn mist gloomy.
Sen. years in the heart longs to me:
There\'s separation anxiety, there\'s a pleasure meeting,
There\'s dismal autumn, there\'s flowers and snow. . .
Oh, sing their song, it brings me joy
And strange pain - I cry.
Warm earth cold Heron,
Source from which the drink allowed,
Strength of interference from fatigue,
Air in the chest TĀLES dreams wings.
Sen became boring,
So the heart,
So my heart and close to the sun.
These words, spoken by the sun,
The blood whispers in the ear,
By speaking dear sun
By Heart to Heart beating.
which the tables are always new leads;
Years glow of the wine, pour a glass,
solemn moments as being drunk.
Years of falling stars Tale of high,
the night god Vesers striking,
they are like water, lift the two hands,
Salco stream flows down the back.
And hope that they will not damage the frost,
Once the flakes melted years
Larks and silver will not vote.
From your words warm gloves, skin,
While it would be, although it would be more,
How Dzīpariņš by itself did not find,
From your heart like a fire line runs.
The bird leaves the nest,
When pārsāp years,
Walked home, passing,
And believe it is very
Picture of his life,
In order to watercolors
Painted on it.
To understand more deeply. Loving kairāk.
Extend above. Get more.
Friend, do not ever wasteful:
Life in the lap of the need
After they have daily digs.
If you no longer will not be able to love,
Not animosity no longer in your chest will come out -
For the beggar, the wayside,
You\'d be a hundred times poorer!
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