Poems by Olga Zarya
(photo from the author's archive)
No need to slouch and winters tired look.
The lips of the kidneys opened and wiggled with tongues.
Who said: it is frosty in the soul, if the wind is contrary to
It does not wither and does not freeze the golden petals.
I breathed in the sun. And now the soul is sick ...
Strike a match, and explode - it is heated.
In the spring summer rush. There will be clouds of gray.
All that is warmed in the souls will certainly produce fruit.
Joy has ripened, so the sun is in everything.
We will apply the summer paint on the weather-beaten body.