The Ruins
If you see a ruin,
so stop, listen quietly
the soft, distant, gentle songs,
your soul wants to reciprocate,
Eternal wants to marry ...
There under branches, completely hidden,
there is a number, right at the corner.
Surrounded by the ivy trees,
and the rosebush, the slender.
And only in the late autumn,
when all the leaves have fallen,
the rose hedges cling tightly
at the ivy, one sees under the fluff
of the spider web - numbers, barely.
From the ruins that have fallen,
alone an archway is still standing.
The ivy puts on a dress to him
of green, hardy leaves,
they protect him from the wind and bettors.
Who went here a long time ago,
you do not know, it's been a long time
in which this life has passed,
what remained,
a license plate at the gate - not anymore.