Morning meadows
In the meadows, in a fairy tale, on the morning of miracles,
Nicer for the heart there is no picture,
A tear hung from each blade of grass,
And sun ray gilded the dewdrops.
I look at the grass-happy eye,
After all, in the morning amazing colors,
The meadow is wonderfully green like satin,
Glisten diamonds, as if in a marvelous fairy tale.
