This is a poem about the evenfall in my country.
At evenfall, when
the world farewells and
prepares for the night,
with gold, the light paints
the sky and waves, and with red,
the setting sun, far away.
In the fields, there is fragrance of the country in spring,
as if it was fenced with flowers.
White orchards and meadows in the woods.
On the hills, houses and trees are asleep.
The dark mountains are behind
and, in the valley, the river is flowing,
'The most beautiful, my country is.'
Poetry by Dejan
Read 529 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 16:07
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A Poem
At evenfall, when
the world farewells and
prepares for the night,
with gold, the light paints
the sky and waves, and with red,
the setting sun, far away.
In the fields, there is fragrance of the country in spring,
as if it was fenced with flowers.
White orchards and meadows in the woods.
On the hills, houses and trees are asleep.
The dark mountains are behind
and, in the valley, the river is flowing,
'The most beautiful, my country is.'
Poetry by Dejan
Read 529 times
Written on 2006-08-22 at 16:07
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text| Texts |
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