When one will go by the hard road,
Where the maturity is growing,
On the quiet emerald surface,
He will see his reflection, perfect.
He’ll freeze of happiness, melt down,
merge with the Face of the Eternal.
The spirit with a flock of white swans
will flush and take wings to high heaven.
Wonderful poem with nice lines: The spirit with a flock of white swans, will flush and take wings to high heaven. Loved it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Здесь ты уже не заблудишься. И небо темно-синего цвета, Что-то хорошее и прекрасное ждет тебя в твоем путешествии.